Seven Nights
by kawaiisuzu
Summary: Sophie Hatter's life was sensible: black and white. She thought she could make an exception and add shades of gray when she met Horrible Howl. It was too bad, really, that what he demanded was color... -Sequel to 'Seven Days'-
1. Prologue: Expected Gossip

**Suzu- Man… I wrote part of this chapter in 2007 and the computer crashed. So--one more time!**

**Just a note to start:**

**While 'Seven Days' gave us Sophie by herself, and Howl by himself… they were basically independent entities just barely touching yet. **

**Seven Nights will focus more on their adventures together… and the time sequence is not merely nights… but also evenings (lol). **

**I was planning on raising the bar to M-level and including more racy subjects (because you can't help but see the connotations from the title). However, this fiction stays at T. PG-13 should be sufficient. A warning, though…this piece might just be **_**almost plotless**_** (laugh). Well… in any case, it shouldn't be any duller than Seven Days. I promise. **

**This is a blend of book and movie. **

**Sophie has both ginger colored hair and is described as very pretty by Dianna Wynne Jones, but less so than her second youngest sister, Lettie. The third sister, Martha, is apprenticed at Cesari's. Their stepmothers name I kept with the movie version-Honey. I'm sorry if I have referred to her once before in 'Seven Days' as Fanny. **

**Howl Jenkins (the full name from the book, although more appropriately Howell Jenkins) still has the Miyazaki look, overall. If you would like to reference some points, I suggest rereading or skimming 'Seven Days' to refresh your memory. However, I am contemplating putting some character sketches up on deviant art in the near future. Whether you would like to see them or keep your imagination's view is wholly up to you, dear reader. **

**The (long awaited; pfffft) sequel to 'Seven Days' is finally here!? Without further ado about nothing… enjoy.**

* * *

……………………………

**Seven Nights-**

**Prologue**

**--In Which Gossip Is Not Unexpected--**

……………………………

_It was just an evening stroll. _

_No._

_Not a stroll. It was more of an errand to run, but you see, dutiful Sophie Hatter had no one to run errands for but herself. Therefore, could you call it an errand?_

_The town of Market Chipping was still a bustling place full of airy, cobbled streets as well as dank little alleyways in which more than one young girl could get herself into trouble wandering. Occasionally, the next day's story, no matter how exaggerated, would be scrutinized with the utmost self-righteousness by the town's gossips, which had the most voracious appetite for these intangible tidbits. It might have been the young girl's misfortune to land it with the miller's boy, or a street rat with not a cent to his name. However, anything was better than being accosted by a wizard._

_Oh yes… anything but that. _

_Now, an outsider or a tourist (who knows what one could tour in humble Market Chipping… though Cesari's was always a nice stop, and heavens, the hat shop was making a mint nowadays with Honey back with a rich, business-canny husband) might think that a girl being accosted by a wizard in one of Market Chipping's alleyways was a gossip piece a little too exaggerated for its own good. _

_The people of Market Chipping, however, know better. _

_Did the wizard Howl not live just over those rolling hillsides a little ways off? Once or twice, the shepherds could claim that his rumbling, moving castle had nearly trampled their sheep. It was a common wives' tale that Horrible Howl ate beautiful young girl's hearts without a moment's remorse. _

_After all, he was a bad, treacherous wizard. Not the legal kind that helped the king with his state affairs or sold common panaceas to the common folk. No, no. Horrible Howl was the like that was in league with the Witch of the Waste. _

_Three months ago, however, there was a popular musing over at the town's most successful and questionable bar. Georgina Whittling, a poor girl a little blunt in the head but rather stunning to behold, had told stories of how wizard Howl had come to the hat shop and helped the Hatters through that rough patch during sales… oh, you know, that time that Honey had left for Kingsbury and the two younger sisters had been apprenticed off. _

_No one had made too much of it, though. Sophie Hatter was much too dutiful and proper and… well…. she was the first-born. A thing like a wizard did not come strolling into the life of the first daughter of three, bring fortune and prosperity along the way. No! If anything like that would occur, it had to be with Martha, the third child. _

_Therefore, the notion was dismissed vaguely, apart from a few whispers and glances at young (and becoming prettier everyday) Sophie Hatter sitting at her desk sewing on ribbons to bonnets… after the customers had already stepped through the front door and developed the urge and gut to look back and wonder, of course. _

_Horrible Howl? Sophie Hatter… no. _

_After all, she was still very much alive and kicking, wasn't she? _

_Howl would have eaten out any pretty girl's heart. And although the girl might deny it, and although stepsisters are supposed to be ugly, no one in town could deny that all three Hatter sisters were very lovely indeed. _

_Sophie Hatter? Horrible Howl…no. _

_Although… when the first of the little white cards (which looked like letters) mysteriously popped up at the Hatter residence's doorstep, town gossip revved its gears once more. _

…………………………………………………………………… 

It was an errand. For herself, that is. Or for Howl.

Sophie, after all, had no need for baubles or other pretty accessories.

It couldn't have been an errand for Honey. Sophie's stepmother was living prosperously on the wealthier side of town with servants galore, and Sophie had adamantly refused to move in for sentimental reasons and had stayed at the relatively smaller quarters she'd known as a child. There were other implied, secret reasons (like: how would Howl find her at the huge mansion… though, Sophie was sure he did have his ways).

The dress had arrived the afternoon before on her doorstep in an ostentatiously wrapped package, which was larger and heavier than Sophie would have liked, as she had to carry it from the front of the shop into the back where her bedroom was---amidst much local chatter and stares from people on the street.

With it had been another white letter card, which had detailed to Sophie just how she should go about finding some 'feminine' articles to match the snowy white lace and trim of the dress.

Sophie had blushed and worried and ranted to herself all of yesterday over his 'thick-headedness' and 'lack of shame'. But in the end, Sophie had stopped arguing, and told herself to stop looking at the dress and stop thinking about the probable occasion on which such dresses were worn.

After all, she just wanted to focus on the prospect of seeing Howl again.

Every single time she pictured him in her mind, though, the moment was quite ruined by another thought. The idea of carrying the name "Sophie Jenkins" made her head spin and her cheeks hot… but most of all, it made her nose crinkle.

He had said one more day.

That ruled out yesterday.

So… today was it, no matter how you looked at it.

Howl might be fantastically adept at slithering out of things, but he wouldn't go back on his word. After all… he rarely gave his word on anything in the first place.

At half past six, the evening sky was a beautiful glow of peachy orange and violet with periwinkle residues of the day past. Market Chipping was not a port town, but the main street crossed over with another wide road past the central square and made a stately arched stone bridge over a small river that flowed through a part of town.

Standing on the bridge, you could see the sun set as if into the water, dipping serenely while emitting glowing orange rays. A cool evening breeze might float by if you were lucky, and on summer evenings, the well-to-do's of the town would try boating into the sunset. It was all rather romantic, until you caught sight of a piece of garbage that happened to be floating by. One of Martha's admirers at the café had invited her. Sophie's youngest sister had many jokes to crack about that event, ranging from how he'd tried to kiss her and only ended up nearly tipping the boat to Honey herself trying to break up the boat ride a minute too late. Martha's pretty yellow frock still bore evidence of bad Market Chipping sewage.

Sophie walked past the bridge with a vague smile.

Once she had finished purchasing a few yards of white lace (a decent supply of extra for the hats as well as herself) and a few rolls of matching ribbon, Sophie had valiantly tried to find a piece from the jeweler's in town that she might take a fancy to. Alas, she realized that it was uncanny for her to be seen browsing diamonds and other precious stones as soon as the storekeeper and his assistants started whispering behind the well-set counters.

When Sophie's gaze began wandering towards the engagement rings (although Howl had not mentioned this part in his note), she began to berate herself in earnest.

Really!

The nerve. After all, he hadn't even bothered to propose.

And after causing so much trouble just waltzing into her life (Sophie carefully left out the fact that the hat shop had prospered because of Howl), he decided to conjure little notes at the front door that leave the respectable folk aghast with suspicions.

When would she stop waiting for him? Could you trust someone like Howl, free as the wind, to blow back to a place where he's already visited?

It's not as if she was doing much better without him, though. Everything the past months reminded her of him. Though she'd never admit it to anyone else, Sophie had the sense to know when she was a little helplessly infatuated.

Sophie stopped when she saw the Cesari pastry shop's bright windows and décor up ahead. There were still a few people milling about. Mostly, however, men and women were heading home. Martha said she would be busy all that week, what with preparing for Midsummer's Day Festival and all.

The sky was getting darker at a faster rate now. Sophie clutched her bag of rolled lace closer to her bodice and walked at a steadier pace towards the Hatter shop. There were still men and few housewives finishing up the day's chores on the streets. A few young men and even less girls strolled along the steps crisscrossing main street. It was a little late to window shop, and not one lone girl could be seen during this time of evening.

To say she was mildly nervous wasn't exactly true when she had just descended the steps of the jewelry store. Now, however, hearing the clop of her shoes against the ground at her feet, she began to eye her surroundings nervously.

After seeing only a few people carrying groceries and some others chatting amiably with friends, however, Sophie felt rather a fool for quickening her steps home. As if to prove to her cowardice that it was in the wrong, she slowed down, and let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding.

When Sophie reached Cesari's, which was much less crowded now than during midday, she felt the urge to go inside and ask for Martha. However, when she caught a glimpse of the apprentices and various store workers bustling inside, getting rid of the day's leftovers and cooling vast cakes for the Midsummer Festival in a few days time, Sophie felt rather guilty and terribly idle.

How could she be wandering around aimlessly, browsing at accessories in the stores and smoothing out the scrumptious dress in her room and just… and just…

No.

She couldn't say it.

Everything reminded her of it.

Turning her head from Cesari's front doors, Sophie stifled a laugh when she caught sight of the avenue that she'd turned down when she'd first met Howl Jenkins. 'See?' she said to herself. It wasn't merely her own fault she couldn't get his face out of her head. Fate was conspiring against her prudence.

"_All right then, if I must escort a lady, let me do it properly."_

She thought back to what he had said before he'd casually held out his arm and strode confidently with her in tow to the front door of the hat shop.

Sophie retraced her steps now.

She stared at each footfall, and at her practical brown loafers, at her thin ankles and the way they peeked out from under her manila dress, a definite improvement from the gray one she'd been so obstinate on wearing just months ago.

"Ha, ha. No need to be afraid…" 

That's right. Those were the first words he'd said to her, weren't they?

She smiled again, a wide grin that brightened her features and made her eyes wistful as she reminisced. If there was anything she was truly indebted to him for, it was for making her less afraid. Less afraid of what Honey thought of her and what her sisters thought of her and what the townspeople thought of her and what the world thought of her…

In fact, Howl might have been the first man to truly force her to make decisions as just Sophie Hatter, and not as the eldest daughter of the Hatter business who was a studious and unromantic girl, who was a simpleton because of her birth.

No… there wasn't any need to be afraid.

Sophie looked at the spot on the wall where Howl had cloaked himself in shadow to hide from the police. Just what did he do that day, anyways?

But she was afraid.

Sophie knew she was afraid, and this time, Howl was the root of these fears. What did he think of her? Would he really stay true to his vague promises of cakes and receptions?

Sophie continued walking down the street. It was a narrower alley, and a sort of shortcut to take back to the shop.

Now that she thought about it, Sophie realized she didn't really care about fancy parties or his promises of lace and pretty clothing to be worn on special occasions.

She just wanted to see him again.

It had been months.

She wanted to see him smile that aggravating little smirk before he did something rather unforgivable like hold her by the waist and kiss her unabashedly.

She wanted to see the way his hair (would it be black like the time he left or blonde like when they first met?) swept perfectly at his shoulders, and the way his bangs fell into his deep, unfathomable eyes before she looked away in embarrassment.

Oh…

Sophie knew now.

She missed him.

At this rate, she would kill him for making her wait another minute.

He did say today, didn't he?

Sophie was afraid that he would make her wait more countless, idle days before she could see him again.

She balled her fists against the bag she carried close as she marched decidedly to the shop. The shop keeper had not done the best job of arranging the lace within the bag, so the whole package blocked Sophie's view of what was in front of her, at least partially.

One time, she almost tripped on a loose chunk of rubble from the narrow walls to her side.

After finally making her way past the claustrophobia-inducing walls of the narrow alley through two buildings, Sophie ended back on the larger street with the hat shop in front of her.

She was about to adjust her baggage into a more comfortable position when the topmost roll of white ribbon she'd gotten earlier slipped out of the bag and onto the dirty cobbled street.

Sophie groaned as she hefted her load onto one side and leaned down carefully to pick up the marred white roll of ribbon. Ugh… look at all the dirt on the street.

Imagine her astonishment when, just as Sophie's fingers were about to close on the little satin roll, the cylinder rolled with newfound gusto away from her grasp and exactly four foot forward towards the shop door.

Seeing as she had to cover that space anyhow, Sophie moved forward to reach for the ribbon again.

Just as soon as she had one finger on it, the whole thing rolled forward a few feet again.

Now, this was quite troubling. The bag she was carrying was still held tight squarely against her left shoulder with one hand, while her free arm reached out to clutch at the roll of white satin ribbon that was now getting dirtier and dirtier, while rolling at a quickly accelerating pace.

To make a whimsical pun, Sophie quite couldn't put her finger on the whole ordeal.

She contented herself with making soft 'mmphs' of effort and annoyance, while shuffling forward with her torso leaning towards the ground, trying to outrace the primitive cylinder-wheel that was making away with a good few feet of newly purchased lace.

Sophie wasn't quite sure if she was feeling a little too dizzy from the blood-rushing to her head or the insistent ache in several parts of her body from bending down in her stiff linen dress, or if she was just squinting too hard because the sun was coming down rather fast and the shops on either side of the street cast glowing shadows onto the street.

She could she was almost to the hat shop now, and the proper thing to do would have been to stand up already before she did something truly horrifying like hit her head on the few steps up to the front doors of the various shops. Before she could do anything drastic, though (and Sophie's head was really swimming now), the eldest Hatter daughter heard a soft laugh behind her.

_"I daresay you're inviting some men less gentlemanly than myself a good chance to do more than accost you, with your bottom sticking up in the air like that."_

Sophie froze.

That voice.

Only this time, it was much more real. This wasn't exactly the voice she kept hearing over and over again in her head, although Sophie had trouble settling her heart and telling herself to stay calm.

This voice was richer, more laughing, with a familiar edge of wit and an unfamiliar sense of some new emotion. This wasn't a memory. She would remember if anyone…if he, especially… said something as uncouth as that to her.

Still, uncouth as it might be—it made her strangely… happy.

This voice… was real,

…wasn't it?

"—Although, it is a very cute bottom, my lady… under all those petticoats."

Now it all sounded startlingly real.

Sophie's face felt like it was on fire. Her gaze locked unseeing on the roll of satin ribbon. Her head was awhirl with conclusions and connections and—oh, how could she be so stupid? Of course no ordinary roll of ribbon would travel so such a long distance without any push unless it was magicked.

Wait… but did possessing magic also enable the user to have vision that could see through however many layers of… oh—petticoats?

She stifled a gasp. Then she opted for moving out of her compromising position. It was altogether too embarrassing for words, and Sophie's long reddish ginger hair, which she had tied back neatly that morning at the nape of her neck, had loosened and was falling in fair hanks into her face, which was still fixed on the dirty street.

She heard footsteps as his figure came closer.

'If he dares say one more thing about my skirts…' Sophie gritted her teeth. At least that part of her body was still in functioning order.

"It's a good thing there wasn't any other person here on the street right now. I chose an opportune moment, didn't I?" he remarked in that airy way of his.

Sophie could almost imagine the way his perfect hair, whatever color it was now, would brush against his cheek as he spoke.

Sophie didn't know if it was sheer will, a passing muscle cramp, or both… but she was finally able to right herself in a civilized standing position again. He was still behind her, though, and neither could see the other's face at the moment.

Sophie's gray eyes searched the deepening hue of the horizon as her consciousness searched for Howl behind her. She caught her breath, finally, and quipped smoothly.

"Howl."

"Sophie," he replied just as easily.

She could imagine his little mock salute, how he would tilt his head a fraction to the side and his fine locks of hair would spill to the side and look perfectly in place anyhow.

"I…"

Sophie cursed herself in her head. That was the worst way to start off the next phrase. She didn't know what she had meant to say. She didn't know what she _should_ say in this situation. It had been nearly three months, hadn't it?

I missed you.

I was waiting for you.

I was ready to skin you for the things you did.

And…

I love you.

Oh, for heaven's sake, I'm so in love with you I can't stand it.

She didn't need to say anything.

Rather, it was that she didn't have the time.

Howl picked the moment her words had broken and silence had settled in to put his arms around her waist and, though Sophie had no clue how he managed with the clumsy bulk of lace and ribbon purchases she clung firmly to, press her small frame in one fluid motion to his.

It took her breath away. She didn't try to gasp and get it back this time.

It was like a scene from one of those risqué romances Lettie liked to read. He was embracing her from behind, she had no way to escape with her package held to her shoulder, and the street was uncharacteristically empty of anyone but the two of them.

The moment had seemed to be locked in time for longer than Sophie dared hope. She held her breath through it all until an ache built up in her lungs to match the throbbing ache she felt at her heart.

**

* * *

Welcome back**

* * *

"It's been awhile, hasn't it?" Howl whispered into her hair. 

She could feel his breath at her ear, and she could smell his familiar and yet almost forgotten scent, a mix of soft perfume and the smell of the clean breeze and… Howl. A man. A man she knew she had missed terribly when he'd left, no matter how much she wanted to close the thought up within her head.

She nodded weakly, and he laughed again.

His laugh… yes, she'd nearly forgotten that, too. His laughs in the hollows of her memory did not compare to the real thing, soft and vibrant and characteristically belonging to this wizard.

Howl stopped laughing and seemed to pause awhile before he spoke his next words.

"Can you hear it?"

Sophie swallowed. Blinked. Spoke.

**

* * *

Where were you?**

* * *

"…Hear what?" 

He didn't have to answer. She heard it.

She heard it and she understood the moment she had voiced her silly question. Of course.

Of course.

His heartbeat.

Sophie imagined it would be soft and rhythmic and soothing normally. But now it was a jumping, face-paced drumbeat against her own. Pressed up against him, she could feel everything he'd tried to convey to her with words and had failed.

_Thmpthmpthmp…_

He was nervous. He was elated. Happy. Terrified. He was everything she was at the moment and more.

He was human.

So human that it frightened Sophie as much as it endeared him to her.

Howl smiled against her ruddy hair, as if he could feel the exact moment both their heartbeats matched up and started beating in unison too. Sophie relaxed and tried to hide her wide grin, but failed miserably.

**

* * *

Did you think of me?**

* * *

They stood there for the long time as the shadowed lengthened and engulfed the whole street, listening in wonder at the rhythmic concert in their own bodies and wondering at the fragility and the beauty that it entailed.**

* * *

I thought of you**

* * *

"Howl…" Sophie whispered into the pleasantly cool night air that contrasted with his warm arms around her, and her own burning skin where they touched. 

"What is it?" He shifted his head, and Sophie turned hers an inch to see a lock of Howl's hair. It was blonde again. She smiled wider. At least it wasn't blue, although she had half expected it to be.

"Did you… why did you… no… I… what I mean is…" she murmured hesitantly, afraid to break the sound of serene silence around them, afraid to ask the question, no, the questions, she'd been wondering for so long.

Why did you send that dress?

Did you really have to leave for so long?

Why did you go in the first place?

Why…why are you back?

Are you back for good?

Why did you choose me, of all people?

**

* * *

So many thoughts**

* * *

Howl only tightened his grip reassuringly. "I'm here Sophie. I know whatever I have to say still sounds a touch insincere, but I really am here… for you."**

* * *

So many thoughts I couldn't keep track of them all**

* * *

Sophie blinked back whatever emotion was leaking at the corner of her eyes. She didn't do this. Not the simpering, emotional heroine of Lettie's favorite novel… that wasn't her at all. 

Although now, she had a much better notion of why they cried when their sweethearts came home.

She wasn't even sure if Howl could be counted as a sweetheart. She wasn't really sure of just what the two of them were.

But she knew one thing.

**

* * *

Though, mostly, I just missed you

* * *

**

She let her load drop. She never heard the bag hit the floor, and she thanked Howl's reflexes and his quick magic for that, as she spun around quickly and nearly tackled Howl to the ground with her force.

**

* * *

I missed you**

* * *

Howl seemed rather shocked at first, but his eyes grew soft and he encircled her again after a moment. 

"Welcome b-back…"

Sophie hiccupped through her words. She turned red, and hoped he wouldn't notice. Too late. She could see a roguish smirk form on his lips through her blurred vision.

"W-welcome back, Howl!"

**

* * *

I missed you so much**

* * *

He patted her on the back reassuringly, as if to a child. Sophie certainly felt like one at the moment, and contented herself with sniffling pathetically into his impeccable clothing that she failed to notice at the moment. She would get to worrying over her dignity in the morning.

Right now, nothing else mattered.

**

* * *

Tell me you missed me, too**

* * *

Howl really was back. She welcomed back everything, every part of him. 

The sky was definitely dark now. Sophie couldn't see if the stars had come out. She was too busy basking in his radiance, as banal as it sounded.

He chuckled again softly. She blessed the sound.

"I missed you, too, Sophie."

………………………………………………………………………………

**End**

………………………………………………………………………………

…

…

**

* * *

Suzu- well, that's a wrap. Now the whole series is done, finally. I could cry. **

**Please submit your last reviews for this series. **

…

…

**No, I'm JOKING! Really. Don't get mad, now. That was just the prologue. Nothing really exciting goes on, except that the neighbors gossip and…**

**Well, you know. Oh, and GAH! The bolded words I write at the end haven't been bolding. It was rhetorical justaposition, I tell you!!! Eeerr...I'm frustrated now. After two edits, it should hopefully turn out. **

**I couldn't resist having their fateful reunion start off by Howl remarking on Sophie's butt, though. It was too good of a laugh to miss out on, so I typed it in as fast as I could… before my rational side told me some people might not appreciate it. **

**Really, though… who hasn't imagined or would like to imagine Howl leaning over casually to examine Sophie's backside when she's otherwise preoccupied?**

**Besides, it was nothing too lewd. **

**Well, a good way to kick off the new year, I hope. My birthday is just around the corner, too (shameless hint XD)**

**Happy 2008! **

**I can't believe I'm a junior in high school already. Sadly, though, it'll mean that I'll be busier than ever. However, I'll do my best with this story. Unlike Seven Days, this story is more planned out from the beginning. **

**As always, I thrive on feedback, both positive and negative. It was your wonderful comments that got me off my lazy bum to start typing again, although I should be taking notes for A.P. European History. Yuck.**

…

**Ja ne, **

**Suzu**


	2. Night One: Entourage

Without further ado about nothing… enjoy

**Disclaimer: If I owned Howl's Moving Castle, I'd be done scouring Wales—book reference-- for a guy like Howl already (blubbers, for the authoress does not own HMC and wants a Howl-esque bishonen of her own—but alas, who dares set sights that high?)**

**Suzu- Thanks to all who read the prologue and smiled.**

**NOTE: In this chapter, there will be a glimpse of some new characters. Valeria is an HMC book character; however, she is a baby in the book. Here, I've fast-forwarded time and Valeria is only a little younger than Sophie.**

**I suggest choosing a dim, cozy area to read this. Or, you can just envision a peaceful, serene, chilly but still excellent quite night. It's an exercise to get in the mood and environment. I know many people just skip right along searching for action, but there's no harm in reading the little nuances of diction at a nice leisurely pace, is there? Well, moving right along now…**

……………………………

**Seven Nights-**

**Night One**

**--In Which an Entourage is Acquired--**

……………………………

_So she said_

_What's the problem, baby_

_What's the problem—_

_I don't know_

_Well, maybe_

_I'm in love, (love)_

_Think about it_

_Every time I think about it_

_Can't stop thinking 'bout it._

_How much longer will it take to cure this  
Just to cure it cause I can't ignore it if it's love (love)  
Makes me wanna turn around and face me but I don't know nothing 'bout love_

…

_These lines of lightning mean_

_We're never alone (never alone)_

_No, no_

…

_Come on _

_Come on_

_Turn a little faster_

_Come on_

_Come on_

_The world will follow after_

_Come on _

_Come on_

_Because everybody's after _

_Love_

_-'Accidentally In Love'_

_-Counting Crows_

* * *

_Recap:_

"_W-welcome back, Howl!"_

_I missed you so much_

_He patted her on the back reassuringly, as if to a child. Sophie certainly felt like one at the moment, and contented herself with sniffling pathetically into his impeccable clothing that she failed to notice at the moment. She would get to worrying over her dignity in the morning. _

_Right now, nothing else mattered. _

_Tell me you missed me, too_

_Howl really was back. She welcomed back everything, every part of him. _

_The sky was definitely dark now. Sophie couldn't see if the stars had come out. She was too busy basking in his radiance, as banal as it sounded. _

_He chuckled again softly. She blessed the sound. _

"_I missed you, too, Sophie."_

* * *

The nightlife at Market Chipping wasn't spectacular, that was for sure. However, one would be surprised to find just how much did take place at nighttime.

At day, the town was the quintessence of propriety (or so some of the middle-aged, no nonsense women liked to think)

At night…

…Well, a lot happened at night.

Market Chipping wasn't a seaside town like Porthaven, where fishermen and travelers and scallywags back from sea scampered about at night reacquainting themselves, introducing themselves, sullying themselves, or simply bringing out the covert hedonist in themselves. Porthaven had a lot of nightlife, and stunning evening lightshows now and then to boot.

Kingsbury, the capital, on the other hand, was probably even more notorious than Porthaven (but in a different sort of way, mind you. Kingsbury residents were _fashionably _scandalous, not uncouth like those sailors). There were luxurious and less luxurious clubs and bars and restaurants and lodgings. It was rumored that Prince Justin himself had strayed to visit a popular hostess on his coming of age birthday. The fact of the matter was passed over during tea circles. There were a few jokes about it, but those native 'Kingsburians' were too incredibly trendy and stylish to think too much of it besides.

Market Chipping was a place that didn't mention its nightlife much in the day. Night was a time for rest. Whether rest meant drinking up a storm at one of the few decent bars in town or sleeping with the covers over your head was mostly an unmentionable in the upper circles.

Sleeping at night? Mending? Sewing? Paying your bills?

Alright.

Drinking? Frolicking? _Fornicating_ (before nuptials)?

Outrageous.

Unspoken of.

Men who did so came back at their own discretion and were judiciously nagged by their wives.

The men who were _not _nagged by their wives were branded as good for nothings.

Scandal.

A tad enviable and thrilling, yes, but still incredibly _uncivilized_.

Respectable citizens from respectable families in Market Chipping simply did not leave the confines of their home past a certain hour, and especially not night after night, week after week, month after month.

Take a properly brought up Market Chipping young lady, for example.

If she would like to be accosted, let her put her efforts to such an end during the _day_.

At _night_?

Good heavens, then. Watch out, horrible Wizard _Howl_ will surely come and eat her heart.

* * *

Howl reached over and fingered a lock of Sophie's reddish blonde hair.

"It's gotten long," he said softly.

Almost wistfully.

Time passes. And waits for no one.

Sophie pushed his hand away gently, her face flushing as she tucked the ginger strands that had fallen loose from her tie behind her ear, away from Howl's roaming hands.

"And _your_ hair is blonde again," she quipped back.

Howl looked almost hurt. He was apparently still very good at looking charming and forlorn and piteously attractive all at the same time.

"You don't like it?" he asked.

Sophie looked up at the incredibly smooth, unrealistically silky mass known as Howl's hair. It was getting late out, and a pale moon was glowing in the sky already. Coupled with the darkness from all the shadows in this particular street, the pale locks looked a little like strands of moonbeams, dancing as an errant night's breeze wafted by. It was a blonde color made even paler in the soft glowing moonlight.

Sophie turned around in a huff, readjusting her purchases so they rested more comfortably on her arms and hips.

"…It's fine."

Sophie's lips curled into a smile she hoped Howl couldn't see since her back was towards him. It wouldn't do to let him know she was faintly amused, although mostly just annoyed, at the impracticality of his changing hair colors every so often. She heard Howl mutter something in the back of her that sounded like, '_Just fine? Really, now…_' and smiled even wider.

It was ridiculous.

This man.

And the way he made her feel.

She walked carefully down the street to the Hatter residence and shop to set down her bags. Howl's steps were almost silent behind her, and the night seemed to cloak and muffle every move he made. Somehow, every footfall still seemed to clash in Sophie's ears, mirrored by the hammering in her chest.

"Sophie."

He caught up to her in a fluid motion the same way he brushed a finger against her wrist.

Sophie looked up.

Howl was all gleam and charm, as he seemed to motion with his hand and mutter a single soft, unrecognizable word under his breath. In the same instant, Sophie felt her arms feel lighter.

"The things—"

He cut her off with an airy laugh.

"Don't worry. I just magicked those parcels back into the shop for you. They'll be waiting for us on the counting table when we get back." Howl's voice sounded mildly amused, probably at Sophie's still slightly dazed expression.

Us… we…

She didn't quite want to think about the implications to his words, so she settled for rebuking him instead.

"Walking that few extra steps wouldn't hurt, you know, Howl…"she muttered. It was mostly to distract her from his words. In fact, Sophie had no clue what she would have done with an incredibly good-looking (she had to admit that, albeit rather grudgingly) wizard in the hat shop, at night.

Worse, what if he started getting ideas? Sophie wasn't such a close-minded person that she didn't hear Lettie and Martha chatting away over who'd been caught with whom in an uncompromising and scandal-ridden position. Market Chipping was good for blowing relationships and events out of proportion like that. Usually, these whole affairs started at night, and Sophie was still prudent enough to know her head didn't function at a hundred percent whenever Horrible Howl was in the vicinity.

Howl only grinned wider as the pause between them seemed to tingle in the night air.

"We haven't got the time."

Here he took her wrist in his hands again. Sophie noted with some wry humor that his fingers were slender and his nails were perfectly manicured (it reminded her of Honey's nails after her step-mother had them done during Kingsbury visits. Honey often refused to do manual work for a few days after).

"I want to take you somewhere. Tonight, Sophie."

Sophie noted that his voice sounded strangely earnest and insistent.

She glanced at Howl's face. He didn't have dimples on his face (it wouldn't go well with his chiseled, angular sort of facial structure, anyhow. Otherwise, Sophie would think Howl would have enough fashion sense—or pomp—to magic them in) but his smile was so genuine it was infectious.

She nodded, if a little hesitantly.

What did he want to—

"Besides, why walk when I can teach you something far better?"

His greenish blue eyes, dark under the fringe of pale, long eyelashes, caught a luminescent glint. Sophie suddenly felt the chill of the night air around her body, creeping in under her thin bodice and shift to come in contact with bare skin. She shivered.

Howl's arms wrapped around her, as if to protect her from the cold. Sophie's mind briefly noted his relatively plain white, long-sleeved chemise, and wondered if he was cold as well.

**Why walk…**

…**When there's something so much better?**

"_Hold on_,"

Howl's voice whispered casually close to her ear.

And then they were lifted into the air. Sophie's mind blanked.

A harsh wind seemed to breathe or suck in deeply from the sky directly above her, and she quite forgot to tuck down her skirts lest Howl catch her in another compromising position. The wind was cool and a had a refreshing sharpness as it blew up her hair and the rest of Sophie's hair that was formerly tied neatly in a bun came flying out in fair ginger hanks.

Howl didn't let go. Sophie realized she was clutching his hands so tightly that her nails left white marks on his flawless skin. He didn't complain, though, if he felt anything.

She opened her mouth to gape or to cry out, because, looking down at the expanse of space at least sixty feet between her and the cobble-stoned ground, Sophie suddenly decided to develop a severe fear of heights. She opted for gripping Howl tighter instead, although she was doing her best to stare resolutely ahead, not down.

She heard a muffled chortle close to her ear.

Sophie would have given him a look, but she was still in a precarious position levitating above most of the rooftops of Market Chipping, with only a lecherous womanizing wizard as her lifeline.

She whimpered a little, and the laughter stopped, finally.

His voice was warm and startlingly close.

"Okay, I lied. To be more specific, this is better than walking on the _ground_," Howl's voice remarked smoothly to her. He was pressed loosely against her back, and Sophie could feel the warmth of his skin through the fabric of their clothes.

"W-what now?" she whispered, trying to use her no-nonsense older sister tone, but only succeeding in sounding quite juvenile.

Sophie could almost hear his good-natured smirk as he said, "Now, extend your legs, and start walking."

She did as she was told. It was a little better if she looked at the stars overhead and pretended there was something underneath her. The telltale _woosh_ of air underneath her now and then gave it away…

…but Howl was right.

This was strangely thrilling.

The various uniform and diverse roof shingles and structures below were dimmed in the moonlight. Market Chipping gave off a peaceful, serene feel, and the whitewashed walls of well-worn buildings seemed to glow below her.

The stars looked a tiny bit clearer from here, without rooftops obscuring her view. She was enveloped in a blanket of tiny dotted pinpoints of light overhead, and it was like she was riding on the wind.

…With Howl.

Said wizard had loosened his hold on her now, though Sophie hadn't really noticed. One side of his mouth curled in a lop-sided smile as the girl a hair's breadth away from him now gazed avidly upwards, downwards, and towards the inky, indistinguishable horizon of the night.

She looked at him next, and her large gray eyes were bright against her face. Her hair whispered along her cheeks and forehead, teasing Howl when strands of it blew onto her slightly parted lips, lingering and then being swept away again by the breeze.

Howl felt the rhythmic beat in his chest start up loudly again. He smiled, unable to stop the queer onslaught of emotions.

The sky was especially bright tonight. Market Chipping had a good altitude for viewing the stars, since it was next to the mountains that his castle traveled by. Where there weren't faraway stars, there was inky black, calm and depthless and providing perfect contrast to the waxing moon that seemed to bless goddess' features onto meek little Sophie Hatter.

He looked at her as they half walked, half bounced above the rooftops of her hometown. The rapturous look on her face hadn't changed.

"You're a natural."

The compliment flew from his lips without his realizing it.

Howl couldn't see if Sophie's cheeks had gotten darker or not, but the telltale aversion of her eyes and the slight tilt of her head told him that she was blushing.

He didn't know if the moonlight was getting to his head, or if the hammering in his ears was getting the better of him, but at this point, Howl didn't much care.

Her smaller hands were still in his, and he leaned forward the small distance to kiss her.

Sophie seemed to turn her head, as if sensing his intentions. Her hands, which gripped his tighter, as well as the warmth from her skin gave her away, though. It was her embarrassment, not her desire, which made her avert her gaze.

Howl smiled.

Ever prudent and practical Sophie.

The wind whipped up again, and Sophie blinked her eyes shut. Howl took advantage of the moment to kiss the faint glow of moon on her cheek, and then at the corner of her pink mouth.

He breathed his promise into her ear just as the wind passed.

Sophie blushed again and squeezed his hands tighter as he moved his mouth from her cheek to her lips.

* * *

Market Chipping had quite a few taverns, if you counted them all. However, as the owner of the largest night bar in town, Bill Townshend liked to say that there were one or two decent places to have a drink and such.

His own place was open quite late as well as into the morning, but the business was always fairly steady. Often, bachelors, travelers, or a few young men who'd taken the effort to grow a beard would drop by to visit the waitresses and have a pint or so. Sometimes, even the men with the most notoriously upright wives in town came by to take a break.

Tonight was exceptionally balmy and nice, and the place had quite a few persons clinking glasses and chatting, gambling, or holding drinking championship matches. One of their chief attractions, a local young beauty named Georgina, was getting ready to sing a short sweet tune with accompaniment on the banged up piano in the center of the main room of the place. Bill would have to check up on her again later on to make sure no man was being overly sweet on her, or else the bar would have more scandal from that girl painted on its walls.

Bill sat himself down at a table where there was a game of cards going on. The occupants of the table asked if he would play. Bill mentally checked his profits so far that night. A good number had come and paid their tabs, so there was cold cash to bet on tonight. Why not?

He would, though, withdraw from the game halfway through. One of the players had a losing streak going since a year ago, and was unlikely to make a comeback before he learned how to keep a straight face. Easy pickings. Another prominent figure at the table, William Crosby, was notorious for starting brawls, however, and Bill had always systematically kicked him out before the going got too rough.

"Tens?"

"Hn."

Another two rounds of cards. Bill dealt.

"Nothing good tonight, eh?"

Bill noted with relish that he'd acquired two rounds of drinks worth of change and the night was still young. Crosby had gone a little purple though, a heady mix of whiskey, temper, and five straight losses. In about ten minutes, or another round, give or take, the man would explode.

The bar owner braced himself wisely, and calmly excused himself from the table.

"Gentlemen, I must be off to check that Georgina's doing well with her song… she said she had a terrible throat ache this evening."

One man giggled nervously at the word 'gentlemen', but shut up when Crosby sent him a deadly look in the eye.

Bill walked away. This wouldn't take long, now.

While Georgina was in the middle of her vocal trill, Crosby snapped, as if on cue.

"You sonofa—why I'll…"

The men at the small table were standing, all. Crosby had his arm across the diameter of the tabletop, clutching a shorter man's collar. Said person was clinging helplessly to a few fat red chips.

Bill signaled to some hired help. After a few rough verbal spars, the bar owner walked over to the scene himself. The owner was no longer good mood and sweet talk, now that his profit would no longer come from the intoxicated men. He just wanted them the hell out of the bar so that it would not keep away other customers.

"You're all too drunk to function! Get outa 'ere, you hear me?"

* * *

"Where are we going?"

Howl peered over at her with expert dash and suave grin. "Anywhere you want."

The descended a few feet, just enough so that Sophie was only about a man's height above the shops' neatly lined rooftops.

Sophie pressed her lips together.

"Well, I thought you'd have something in mind. You did say you wanted to show me something…"

Howl's smile slid off, and his bright blue eyes widened a fraction of an inch, as if he was disarmed at her good memory. Sophie felt his heart give an answering leap against her back, which was pressed up against his torso.

"Well…?" she nudged.

"I…"

"You're not slithering out, are you, Mr. Jenkins?"

His expression turned to that of forlorn nobleness.

"Never, dear lady. I couldn't possibly slither anywhere when you're hands are clutching mine so tightly."

Sophie colored again, this time in slight indignation. She tossed her head, partly to get a strand of hair out of her mouth, partly to hope some part of her hairdo (the now unkempt bun) would blow in his face instead (nothing ever seemed to faze Howl's looks).

She daringly loosened her hold of his hands, until her fingertips were barely grazing his knuckles. Sophie let out a small yelp of terror when she fell a good foot before Howl caught her again by her hands.

"…Tha-that was…" she managed.

"Exhilarating?" Howl laughed by her ear.

She couldn't look him in the eye for a while, and decided to let the topic drop. Howl would take her where need be; somewhere she hoped was, Sophie admitted, refreshing and different. Sophie still felt a tiny tingle of doubt, though, on whether this was wise.

Howl was still a notorious wizard.

Moreover, Sophie was still the susceptible topic of gossip and social ruin.

There was nothing better to erase the propriety of the last near-two decades of her life than this.

* * *

Bill realized he should have planned this a little better.

The people in the bar had split into factions now, for some unknown reason. The owner didn't know if it was the high alcohol content tonight (he'd have a talk with the brewer about value and dilution later), but everyone was taking to a good brawl tonight.

"C-calm DOWN…" he tried, but his voice croaked at the end when a fist swung dangerously close.

It wasn't really over a few poker chips now, was it? Crosby wouldn't be welcome much after this; that was for sure. Bill and a few of his employees managed to avoid getting hit on the sidelines as the majority of the bar started in a shouting, yelling, kicking, punching fight. The few sensible people who didn't want to be caught up went outside, almost too casually, to look at the stars. Georgina and some of the tavern girls followed to avoid the mess inside.

Something was in the air tonight, Bill reckoned.

* * *

The royal governess wrung her hands as paced the marble steps with footfalls so quiet a mouse would have been jealous. It was only to be expected, though, since she was properly trained in the countries best finishing schools.

The king, whom she knew personally through the queen, her distant relation, should have sent word any moment now. It was already late, and she was waiting by her door to receive word.

The governess was inspecting a potted plant in the vast corridor niche when a royal attendant with blooming breeches and dull golden hair walked up to her with appropriate pomp and circumstance.

"Ahem… ah. His Majesty the King sends his message as thus, Madame Governess…"

Said Governess stopped wringing her hands and tucked them into the folds of her dark velvet dress.

"Continue."

"He wishes to confirm that the Princess Valeria will be returning home posthaste from her half-year trip. Expect the Princess in two days time. Regarding the matter prior, the Queen wishes to discuss urgent matters before the Princess's return…" the attendant said.

He held out a small rose envelope, which emitted a scent that reminded the Governess of the Queen.

"Her Majesty the Queen presents a cordial invitation to a private tea ceremony in her Royal Personal Garden tomorrow evening."

The Governess took it with eager hands.

She bid the attendant goodnight and went into her personal chambers to get ready for bed.

Valeria was coming back?

Surely, the Queen was greatly pleased, as the King would also be.

It was the week of Valeria's birthday, if she remembered correctly.

No doubt the Queen would plan something ridiculously impromptu and grand for the event. And the King… he was always an overly doting father.

As the woman fluffed her pillows with vicious dignity, she sighed forlornly at the thought that Valeria was growing up.

* * *

Stanley looked up towards the stars in the clear night sky with his pint that he had kept close to his person when he'd stepped outside the tavern as soon as the brawl broke.

Oh yes, lovely indeed.

Why, there was the Orion Belt, and the North Star, and…

Stanley rubbed his eye with his grimy free hand.

And…?

* * *

Bill was holding one of his customers in a secure arm lock so that the man calmed down. Crosby was gone already (passed out in the corner); thank heavens.

He and some of his boys were rounding up the last of the rioters inside the tavern and plopping them on judiciously straight-backed chairs around the place. Bill was waiting for the outside crowd to tumble back in when Georgina rushed inside with her curls falling from her hairdo.

* * *

Howl noticed the light coming from the building. In fact, he knew that was the most affluent tavern (at least, one of) in town. He'd picked up a girl there once. Quite a creature, she was.

While he and Sophie were leisurely passing over that particular rooftop's area, he noticed the first shouts from below.

That was when Howl came to a second realization. He'd forgotten to cast a spell to make both him and Sophie unperceivable by the naked eye. A careless mistake—Howl had always traveled alone. Spells were easier to cast on oneself, especially spells of perception.

Once in a while, on a night stroll, he'd forget the glimmer spell to divert attention from his figure in the night sky.

It was alright, since Howl essentially liked attention.

This was a little too much though.

'_Really, did they have to point?_' he thought, and grimaced slightly when Sophie finally looked down as well.

* * *

"It's Howl! It's him, Boss! Boss, quick, come…come see," Georgina seemed to be a little beside herself in excitement. Her eyes were shining with excitement, wide and impossibly large. Bill didn't see what the big deal was, but then the name registered, a little too late, as another member of those outside ran in shouting.

"It's Horrible Howl! He's flying in the sky!"

More shouts.

Some of those in the fight had roused themselves from the splashes of cold water Bill's employees had dumped on them.

"There's a _girl_ with him!"

"What?" "A girl?" "A witch?"

More shouts.

"The Witch of the Waste?"

Seats being thrown backwards. A hooting throng.

Bill put a hand to his forehead, quickly, to check his temperature before taking large, slow steps outside, now that his tavern had just been virtually evacuated in record time and nearly every customer was outside.

Aw, hell.

If you can't beat 'em…

Join 'em.

* * *

They gushed out of the building's front door like a throng of human shaped, fleshy colored beans in the glowing light through the doors and the moonlight.

Sophie's breath rushed out in a half-formed gasp.

"Oh…"

They were low enough in the sky that she could vaguely pick out individual faces. She closed her eyes in horror when she recognized the butcher in town, as well as the bookshop owner's reputed good-for-nothing brother, a former neighbor, all staring wide-eyed up at her in the night sky.

She felt Howl's warm hands tighten around hers, as if in reassurance—or maybe he felt her agitation.

She thought she heard a shout below, and forced herself to look down at the throng of around forty to thirty people again. There was a girlish figure standing to the side, waving madly.

Howl followed Sophie's gaze.

Sophie heard him chuckle apologetically by her side. "Isn't that… ah, Georgina, was it?"

Sophie gulped.

Her head swam.

She'd never really been the center of attention in her life, much less next to an incredibly dashing male, much less next to said male with said reputation… both of them floating in the sky... at night.

She took more steps in the air, in an effort to escape. Howl went with.

After about ten seconds, Howl whispered in her ear, "They're following."

Sophie mustered her courage to look down again.

Lo and behold—they were like ants—and they were following behind, a group of at least twenty chasing their movements, an inky trail of heads in a dimly lit street.

They were now pointing more than ever. More than half seemed incredibly drunk. Sophie assumed they'd consumed enough alcohol at the tavern.

"Howl… make us disappear, make us invisible… please," she said desperately.

Before they recognize you.

Before they recognize _me_.

"Sophie, the glimmer spell doesn't work if they already see us. And I can't cast total invisibility on you and me for a long enough time while we walk to somewhere away from them…"

Howl's soothing voice didn't seem to register in Sophie's mind.

If she was caught… if it comes to it… Sophie could handle it.

She loved Howl, even if she was unsure of his willingness to stay by her.

But Martha… Lettie… Honey and her important new husband.

Could Sophie be so selfish as to ruin their chances because of her own recklessness in the middle of the night?

"…Sophie, you look pale."

Sophie inhaled the cool night air. Now was not the time to be panicking. She had to…

Sophie remembered all those times in the hat shop when Howl had simply appeared and disappeared with a puff of wind. She hesitated, then squeezed Howl's hand tighter, as if in anxiety.

"Howl, magick us out of here. P-please."

Howl's blond hair whipped slightly in the night breeze. His blue eyes looked at her, and his brow creased slightly.

"You'll feel dizzy afterward," he said.

Sophie saw his perfect lips move. Her ears were buzzing from the ruckus below.

"Howl…please."

"…Are you sure—", Howl began.

Sophie cut him off.

"I'm sure. It's a lot better than the alternative."

Sophie tore her gaze away from the hungry stares from below, all of the people she had grown up knowing all looking at her with an expression that was neither entirely horror nor raw excitement.

* * *

"Sophie Hatter," Georgina breathed.

Her pretty head was inclined towards the countless stars in the milky way above the rooftops. The inky sky was overhead, but Georgina was fixated upon two figures.

The waitress who worked with her nudged her in the rib.

"What did you say—?"

"Sophie Hatter," Georgina repeated simply, not moving her gaze.

She didn't know if this was jealousy or not. Georgina thought that she wouldn't be one to feel any of those sophisticated emotions—that she would live life blissfully ignorant, as Lissy liked to say before.

Maybe that was why Georgina had to say it again.

"It's her… with Howl."

Her coworker looked up, too. "What? How can you tell, Georgina? It's really dark."

"I just can."

It's her, isn't it

The other girl pouted. "That's too simple an answer."

Georgina shrugged nonchalantly, but her chest grew tight.

She and the rest of the crowd watched the man and women in the sky. Suddenly, the two figures blinked out of sight.

Georgina remained resolutely still, rooted to the spot, as the people around her broke into shocked murmurs and cries, shuffling about and exclaiming to one another.

**With him**

**I saw them**

The other waitress nudged Georgina again.

"You okay? They're gone, right? I can't see them anymore. Wow… I mean, wow."

**They were there**

Georgina finally looked down again, now that the inky blackness wasn't to be replaced by their two figures again.

The feeling that agitated her was still there, though.

Inky, inky sky.

"Sophie Hatter…"

She tested the name. Georgina had never really thought quite so much of that girl before. Rather, any girl, before.

"Huh? What are you going on about, Gina?"

**Did you see**

**Do you know**

Georgina looked straight into the waitress' eyes, before speaking clearly.

"I said, 'Sophie Hatter'".

**I know**

Georgina grabbed at the people around her, turning them in her direction by their sleeves and coats.

The faces turned, all wide-eyed and excited, eager, in the dim light from the clear night sky.

She heard her own voice say, loudly, breathlessly:

"Did you hear what I said, everyone? Sophie… _Sophie Hatter_ was the girl with Horrible Howl tonight."

**Now you know**

Even Georgina knew there would be repercussions.

………………………………………………………**End Night One**

* * *

**Suzu: So ends Night 1. **

My gosh, I had to edit this again after I uploaded it because ff . net just WON'T do the formatting right! There are always glitches! Rrrrr.

**NOTE: Women during Europe at the time of HMC, I believe, were still immeasurably susceptible to being 'tainted'. Women were viewed as weaker creatures that were supposed to be graceful and attentive and models of virtue. Their reputation was everything, and propriety on the surface was viewed with utmost importance. Sophie's worried because she doesn't know if she can trust Howl, or if her reputation will be ruined so much that she and the rest of her family will be shunned from society. In those days, it was a really heavy matter, so I can picture Sophie feeling incredibly worried (sensible girl that she is). **

**I twisted and adapted movie verse until it became my own, so I hope people thought it flowed naturally. **

**Thoughts?**

**Eh heh. Don't worry about it too much. It'll pick up, I promise. I actually have the plot all planned out down to the end this time. It'll be typed…sooner or later. **

**Personally, I like the storyline I've prepared better than Seven Days (plot wise, it should be better).**

**Stay with me here! And thanks to everyone for the encouraging words! You don't know how much they mean to the authoress, now that she's so busy and frantic all the time. Thank you.**

**Here's to you, dear readers. **

**Until the next chapter!**

**Ja ne, **

**Suzu**

* * *

**Up Next:**

Night Two; In which the king bequeaths much publicity.

**Teaser:**

"Blast," said Howl, looking dashing and nobly torn between duty and desire. Sophie wasn't quite sure. Howl's face was usually too busy emitting pheromones to display some sort of sensible expression, anyhow.


	3. Night Two: Publicity

**Disclaimer: I fervently wish it were so. **

**Suzu: Okay, first off, a big thank you to everyone who's ever read this fic and smiled. And a big sorry for the hiatus. Real life kicking in… as well as some other stressors. But hey, thanks to your encouragement, I've made it this far. So keep reading! I've got good thins planned ahead!**

**This chapter earns the T-rating, finally. This is my first time writing anything remotely physical, so… um, tell me what you think? **

**Without further ado about nothing… enjoy.**

……………………………

**Seven Nights-**

**Night Two**

**--In Which the King Bequeaths Much Publicity--**

……………………………

_Mm. _

_You tryin' to get some good fame_

_Ain't cha?_

_-Ain't cha_

_-Clipse_

* * *

Night One Reprise:

"_Where are we going?"_

_Howl peered over at her with expert dash and suave grin. "Anywhere you want."_

* * *

Sophie kept her eyes firmly shut, because she could hear the wind whistling around them. Oddly enough, there was no slapping force from the sharp gusts that whistled by, and she felt just a mild tingle from her bangs brushing her forehead.

A second or two of this feeling passed, or maybe it was a few hours. She could barely feel the pressure of Howl's hand on her own, barely feel anything at all but an odd weightlessness.

Howl's voice rang in her ear, with a volume that seemed to echo in her head, which felt oddly hollow.

She dimly recognized the instructions, and opened her eyes.

"—phie… Sophie!"

Howl was shaking her gently now. Sophie could see his face. His hair was looking a little disheveled, and his blue green eyes glowed like glass marbles in the moonlight.

It scared her. The lighting reminded Sophie of the way Howl's eyes looked when he had no heart—glassy and empty.

She sorted her wits about her, taking deep breaths of air in hungrily, to stop the spinning in her head.

"H—".

Her voice broke.

"Howl…" she tried again. This time, the sound coming from her throat rasped. Her eyes were beginning to smart, as if she'd just finished a good cry.

Howl looked worriedly at her with darkened eyes. Sophie dismissed the bad feeling she had in her gut and forced out a weak smile.

"What h-happened?" she murmured.

He brushed a hand over her cheek, as if comforting an infant. The gesture was so heartbreakingly sweet, so sincere that Sophie had to close her eyes momentarily. His fair hair fell into his eyes as his eyebrows knitted together. He chuckled, but the sound was a little forced.

"Are you sure you're alright, Sophie? I know teleportation magic is hard on most people the first time, but you look like you've seen a _ghost_." Howl looked thoughtful for a moment.

"I mean, do I look _that _bad right know?" he grinned wryly.

Sophie shook her head slowly, still feeling rather mute. The fine details of Howl's single earring were beginning to become less fuzzy, and she could make out the night stars now. One thing bothered her, however. There was something off about the situation, aside from the fact that floating in the sky was definitely not normal in itself. She couldn't place it until she looked down.

There were stars in the ground below.

Countless winking lights, some yellow, some whitish, others dazzling blues and greens and reds… all flaring and burning below her feet.

It took a while for Sophie to process that these were part of the city below, and not some vast reflection of the stars in the inky sky above them.

Still, she'd never seen quite so many city lights. Her stepmother Honey had told her fascinating accounts about her Kingsbury festivals, and an interesting display she said the city folk called 'fireworks'. Sophie didn't know what those were, but the millions of little lights below reminded her of Honey's enthusiastic face as she described their wonder.

"Are those… fireworks, Howl?"

He looked down to where she was gazing, at a particularly lit up area, with glittering pinks and roses aligned in an oval. Howl's teeth flashed white in the dark as he smiled at her innocence.

"No. Those are just normal lights people put on their buildings and grounds, sometimes during holidays. Fireworks are launched into the sky."

Ever practical, Sophie didn't really think such a thing would be possible. She let it slide, embarrassed to look any more ignorant in Howl's eyes. She'd momentarily forgotten just how sophisticated he'd seemed to her, when they'd first met. No doubt he'd seen and experienced countless things Sophie had never even dreamed of.

"Where are we, then? Howl, is this… the capital?"

Howl nodded. "Right. This is Kingsbury, where His Majesty himself lives. You've been here before for your stepmother's wedding, Sophie. Is that how you guessed?"

"It looks so… different, at night."

Sophie tried to drink it all in, throat suddenly feeling more parched than usual.

"Can we walk across… that is, is this where you wanted to take me, Howl?"

He quirked his head to one side, not meeting her eyes fully as strands of pale, flaxen hair fluttered in the breeze. His blue eyes shifted to gaze into Sophie's.

"Yes."

"Liar," she retorted, not missing a beat.

He made no comment, merely brushed away the ginger locks that were blowing into her face by the crisp night breeze. She blushed slightly, moving away, but tightened her hold on his hands as she stepped gingerly over the night sky, taking Howl along with her.

"That's okay, I suppose. I like this place." She gazed at the expanse of twinkling, colorful lights below her. "It's beautiful, Howl."

Sophie could feel him smile behind her. "Yes. And I'm glad you're feeling better." His voice was pleasant and light, but it still caused something inside her chest to squeeze tight.

"Don't change the subject," Sophie said. In reality, her own head was replaying the image of the trail of people following them in Market Chipping. She squeezed Howl's hand for reassurance. It seemed like a dream, and a lot longer ago than just the few minutes that must have passed since they were walking in the air above the Market Chipping taverns. She shook her head, as if to relieve herself of those thoughts. They were behind her now. If she was lucky, no one had recognized her…

They walked together, across the little lights as Sophie gasped with pleasure over golden hued colors and the rare pink, green, or blue. At length, she stopped to point out a rectangular arrangement of light near the center of the other lights. They shone the brightest, and seemed to reflect light off the pale luminescent clock tower nearby.

"Howl, what building is that?" she asked, her eyes shining.

He chuckled lightly at her awed tone. "Why don't you go over and see? But before that…" Sophie turned around to catch Howl's wicked smirk and the gleam in his eyes. "…You have to guess. And if you guess wrong, I get to kiss you," he concluded with a flourish.

She flushed, half out of embarrassment, half out of thrill.

"And if I guess right?"

He tapped a finger to his chin as if in thought. The look and smile her gave her a second later seemed to trap the air in Sophie's lungs and leave her breathless.

"If you guess right, then you get to kiss me."

"That doesn't seem very fair," Sophie commented.

Howl didn't even have the decency to look embarrassed as he grinned roguishly at her. "Why, it's perfectly fair." His expression changed to one of mock hurt as he looked at her with a forlorn, noble air. "What, don't you want to kiss me, Sophie?"

She resolutely ignored his last question. "I have a better idea. If I get it right, then you tell me where you originally had planned to take us."

Howl groaned and dramatically slapped a hand to his forehead. "Oh, you are stubborn, Mrs. Nose. Surely you don't have to know every little detail in this world."

"I don't! I'm just curious, seeing as you were so excited about it earlier," Sophie defended.

Howl waved a hand at her, as if dismissing her words as excuses. "Well, guess away, dear Sophie. We don't have all night."

Sophie wracked her brains in thought. Last time she'd been in Kingsbury, her stepmother's wedding hadn't taken place too far away from the large clock tower either. If she remembered correctly, the Royal Palace and a collection of affluent street shops were the only buildings close to the vicinity. The lights seemed closer and more elevated than the smaller, more modest pinpricks nearby, so it would have to be…

"It's where the King lives," Sophie concluded, confident in her guess.

Howl grinned at her in response. Sophie felt a feeling of dread come into her stomach. But then again—she glanced at Howl's full, well-defined mouth—a kiss wasn't that bad. It only intruded on her sense of propriety, that's all. And what was propriety in the face of Horrible, gorgeous Howl?

"Wrong."

Sophie swallowed. So he was grinning because she'd gotten it wrong.

"It's the Royal Palace—"

"Wha--?" Sophie started in outrage. That was the same thing as what she'd said!

"—Stables," Howl finished with more smugness than… well, any living creature other than Howl.

"But…" Sophie moved to protest.

Howl had the nerve to tut at her, while suppressing the urge to laugh at her (cute) incredulous expression. "The King doesn't live in the stables, Sophie. That is, not unless I'm mistaken. His Royal Highness of Ingary does hold a particular fondness for his horses, though. The stables are quite close to his wing of the castle."

Sophie swallowed again, and averted her eyes to avoid looking at the hungry, predatory look that had come into Howl's blue eyes. She wet her dry lips.

'_Really, I should have known better than to bet against a wizard…_' she chastised herself.

Howl laughed softly as he leaned closer to her. Sophie blushed, realizing that she'd said her last words aloud for him to hear. Sophie's last thought before Howl smothered her to him was that Howl smelled faintly of parchment and leather underneath the hyacinth perfume.

* * *

It was a clear night, perfect for stargazing. The black cloak of the sky had pinpricks of light that reminded the King of the Queen's needle technique, not that he'd ever muster up the gut to tell her.

His Royal Highness of Ingary enjoyed the tea shebang immensely on a semiannual schedule, and it was generally an honor reserved for a select few to be invited. Rosehip tea was prepared in advance and served on the grassy lawn of the castle's center garden pavilion amidst low, trimmed hedges and white, curling trellises and benches.

The King sat down with a slight harrumph as a few select servants fluffed the Queen's downed cushions for her seat. The tables were arranged in groups of two, with the Royal Couple seated near each other, the Royal Advisor and Valeria's Governess a little further off, and so on.

"I say, you've outdone yourself today with this taste, Clarice," the Queen gushed to the head maid.

"To_night_," corrected the King. His wife sniffed pointedly at the remark before averting her gaze back down to her teacup.

Clarice, sensing trouble brewing, quickly sought an escape. "Oh no, Your Majesties. The recipe is from the kitchen. I'll go fetch a copy if you like," she added hurriedly.

"No, it's quite alright," stated the Queen. "I'll have it brought to my chambers tomorrow."

Thankfully, Clarice was able to edge away before further arguments were heated. The King and Queen were known for their petty arguments, but everyone at court was especially wary ever since Princess Valeria had gone on that ridiculous coming-of-age tour of hers. Both parents doted on their only child, and they were getting jumpy after not having seen their daughter in six months. Right now, rumor was that the King was trying desperately to one-up his wife in a suitable homecoming and birthday present to Valeria, since the Queen was already arranging a Royal Ball.

Eventually, servants hoisted a giant telescope (imported from the Arab lands) onto the grassy lawn. The Queen got her own miniature version. She claimed she got an insufferable headache from the big one.

Generally, the Royal couple went first, followed by others in ranking of importance at court. Tonight was no different.

"You first, Your Majesty," the Governess said.

The King harrumphed out of his chair to take his place, kneeling, at the smaller end of the large contraption.

Servants quickly adjusted the lens for him, while another got a small stool.

"See if you can spot Venus, Your Highness," said Ingary's Royal Advisor.

"I've already found it," commented the Queen in a brusque fashion. She raised an elegant eyebrow at her husband.

"That's nothing, my dear," the King cut in dryly. "The point is to find the hardest things to find, the peculiarities, you see. Come, now, dear Governess, can't you see Venus where you are even without the telescope? What did I tell you, dear? It's no big feat to see Venus."

* * *

Howl brought his lips down on her mouth leisurely. It began as a chaste kiss, slow and sweet, the sensation tingling like a steaming drink in winter all the way to her toes. Howl's cornsilk hair floated down gently to tickle at her cheeks. Sophie's knees buckled slightly, and part of her brain recovered partially from its state of mush to warn her that she was still in midair, blast it, and shouldn't be doing these things in public space… er, a hundred meters from the ground.

She moved her head away and opened her mouth to protest, pressing against his solid chest with one hand while keeping the other hand firmly gripped on Howl's shirt. "That's enough kissing for today, How—l… mmph…"

Howl took the inch back in a heartbeat, and this time his mouth shifted, moved expertly over her own in ways that made her head begin to spin. The pressure grew insistent as Howl took advantage of her gaping expression to nibble lightly on her bottom lip before sweeping the warm inside of her mouth with his tongue. Sophie's head swam harder, from lack of oxygen or the rush of blood, she didn't know. A thrumming had started inside, a warm bud of heat that rushed upwards to engulf her torso and create tremors along both arms as if she were shivering from the cold.

Howl paused only to shift his attentions to the column of exposed throat that was above her dress' collar. Sophie's mouth seemed to throb from the sudden lack of contact, but she took her chance and sucked in a gasp of night air. It seemed to clear her head momentarily, even if Howl's insistent kisses were very distracting.

Using all of her willpower, she pushed him away with her free hand. He tugged her back, before loosening his grip on her wrist and seemingly acquiescing. Sophie's face flushed even hotter (she hadn't thought this was possible) when she saw the look in Howl's gaze. His eyes were darkened to a deep emerald teal with emotion, and the moonlight glanced off the sharper planes of his face, making his profile seem as if it were fine chiseled marble. If he hadn't been breathing deeply as well, Sophie would have sworn she was staring at an exquisite statue.

'_It must be the moonlight_,' Sophie thought giddily. Perfect Grecian statues did not come to life and kiss girls like her.

"Howl, I—" she began, only to be cut off as he put a gentle finger to her swollen lips. Howl seemed to regain his composure, but he kept glancing over her shoulder now.

"Blast," said Howl, looking dashing and nobly torn between duty and desire. Sophie wasn't quite sure. Howl's face was usually too busy emitting pheromones to display some sort of sensible expression, anyhow.

Sophie pressed her numb lips together in growing agitation. "Is something wrong, Howl?"

* * *

Princess Valeria of Ingary was contemplating how to sign off her name in the letter she was sending with the messenger to her parents before she arrived back in Kingsbury in a day or so.

The lighting of her well-furnished guest room was dim, but she had wheedled her guards to wheedle some ink and a pen from the hosts of the small castle, and now she was wondering if 'Val' or 'Valeria' or even the dreadfully longer version (even longer than 'Princess Valeria of Ingary) was necessary on an official letter immediately prior to her formal return to her parents' court.

She signed it simply as 'Val'. Too many run-ins with gifted storytellers on the road had led her to have a minor fantasy about being a lowly milkmaid or the like and having a dashing, roguish prince or lord of sorts rescue her from her poverty. She sighed. After all, milkmaids didn't have names such as 'Valeria', not even touching upon her formal royal title given at birth.

Valeria scanned the contents of her letter. It read simply:

_Greetings Mother and Father, _

_I am pleased to inform you of my return to court at our beloved castle in Kingsbury. I hope you have made the necessary preparations for my homecoming. Please do see to it that my maids accommodate my quarters to fit the additional luggage I have brought back from my travels. _

_I will be arriving shortly, and have sent this letter with my trusted messenger to deliver it posthaste. I hope to find you both well since my absence a half-year ago. _

_With love and devotion, _

_Your daughter, _

_-Val_

_Postscript: I have heard rumors in the countryside these past few days of a ball you are planning for my 19__th __birthday. That sounds most splendid, but please do take care to invite all the gentlemen of the land, not just the neighboring princes. I have a suspicion that this is one of your matchmaking attempts again, Father. Oh, and Mother, don't invite Prince Herbert of Astergia—he is a ninny, and lacking in the proper dash and roguish nature proper of true men his age. _

Satisfied, Valeria folded the letter and sealed it with the royal crest, sighing dreamily as the smoke from the hot wax drifted out through the open window into the night air.

* * *

"Is something wrong, Howl? Tell me."

Howl shook his head quickly, his gaze not focused on her. "Nothing, Sophie, that you need to worry about."

Sophie pursed her lips as she tapped on Howl's chest with her small fist to get his attention. "Stop slithering out of proper explanations, Howl. What is it?"

"Well," Howl said weakly. "They're watching."

Sophie turned around sharply to look in the direction Howl was staring out, if in somewhat of an unfocused manner. All she saw was inky darkness and lights from the ground and buildings below. And those were quite tiny.

Her old fear, the constant shying away from attention, came back to her. Sophie stamped it down. This was ridiculous. They were too high up.

"Howl, who's watching? I can't see anything, and we're probably too high up for them to see us," Sophie reasoned, her voice carrying the edge of argument as she tried to convince herself more than Howl that there was no danger nearby.

Howl seemed to sigh softly, before he seemed to regain his composure completely and smile crookedly at her.

"That's what I thought, too. But they've got a telescope, you see."

Sophie panicked, her eyes going wide. She'd read about telescopes in her books during grammar school. Ever the scholar in her grade school classes, she'd perused all the tales of magical inventions and mystical contraptions created in the neighboring lands.

Seeing the questioning hunger in her face, Howl put a hand on her shoulder reassuringly before explaining in a calm manner.

"Well, Sophie, I put a quick charm around us just in case so I would know if we were being watched or followed, as well as their identities and location. I didn't think to cast a glamour spell since we are high up. I just forgot that His Majesty is rich enough to own a telescope to magnify objects in the sky, and has enough leisure time to go stargazing at night."

Sophie's heart fell as she registered Howl's words.

"His Majesty… the King…"

Howl nodded. "Don't worry, Sophie," Howl smiled softly, and Sophie had the niggling sensation that he was hiding something from her in that smile. His hand reached up to cup her cheek, and Howl's eyes burned with a strange intensity as he tilted her chin up in a smooth motion and gave her a quick peck on the forehead.

"Relax, Sophie." Howl's voice took on a soothing lull, and Sophie knew it was mean to comfort. "They will not come after you. I won't let them find you."

She stared at him, at his carefully passive, heartbreakingly tender expression, while worries climbed into her head as more of the situation sunk in.

"Howl… what… what about—"

He cut her off with a wide grin, flashing white teeth and looking ridiculously handsome under the night stars.

"And now, I take you home, Lady," he announced in a grand manner, as if there were something to joke about at the moment, something to find humor in. "It won't do to scandalize the public any more, not at this hour of the night."

Sophie realized she was tired. Her body had seemed to tingle with anxious energy and life, but the minute Howl had grinned at her, her mind seemed to become overcome by a heavy weight much like sleep.

Her eyelids grew heavy, and she realized with a start that this was magic.

'_Howl'_, she wanted to say, but could not find the energy to speak properly. _'Howl, what about you? What if the King tries to find you?'_

The last thing she saw was Howl's slight grimace past her shoulder, at where she thought the King and whomever he was with were watching.

* * *

The Queen dropped her telescope in surprise.

"What'd I tell you, dear? Two little people in the sky. Ha! That beats Andromeda any day!" the King crowed with almost childish triumph.

"Tha—that's illogical," she managed through stiff lips, her surprise written on her face.

The Royal Advisor settled down next to the King. "Well done, Your Highness. However, don't you think that two little people in the sky is a bit farfetched, even based on folklore and legends?" he murmured.

The Governess nodded her head sharply, wringing her handkerchief in her hands as she resisted the urge to look through the Queen's dropped telescope. "Well said. Certainly impossible there would be little people in the sky. Impossible. I would more likely believe in that countryside legend, Horrible Howl," the woman clucked.

"Ah, you don't say," remarked the Queen, clearly distressed by where the conversation was heading.

The Royal Advisor's nasally voice interrupted the twitter of the servants. "Well, Your Highness, if I could advise you on the probability of the personages' identities, I would have to say that at least one of them is a wizard or witch."

The Queen gasped slightly as she motioned Clarice over to fan her quickly or else.

"And you see, Your Highness, that wizards and witches are very valuable to come about these days," nudged the Advisor.

"Go on." The King was intrigued. The servants were currently setting the magnification of the telescope to a higher setting so they could see better the small figures in the night sky. The King peered into the contraption eagerly as soon as the servants were done twisting the knobs to adjust clarity.

"And I believe that—"

"Ah!" The King's exclamation interrupted the Royal Advisor's speech. "By golly, that little blonde one I saw previously is a young man! And he's staring right this way, the lad!"

The Queen sniffed as Clarice continued to fan her. "And the other one? How old?"

"The other one has her back turned to me, but I can see it's a girl. She's wearing a dress. Oh, the man looks to be about… oh, help me here…"

The King moved aside to let the Royal Advisor have a look.

"Late twenties, Your Highness," the other man concluded.

"Well, there you have it," the King said excitedly, in a loud voice. "That's definitely a better find than any of your stars and planets, my dear. Concede defeat," he said happily as he treaded across the lawn.

The Queen ignored him. She'd picked up the smaller telescope again and was looking through it with great concentration, twisting the knobs this way and that to get a closer view. "Oh, I say!!" she cried out.

"What?" Three voices demanded at once.

"They've vanished, both of them!"

The King scrambled back to the larger telescope, sweat beginning to dampen his bearded cheeks. This was the most fun he'd had in ages. And that young man—such clear, piercing eyes, as if he saw them in return!

Clarice began pouring more tea. Over the clinking of tea sets, the Governess whimpered at not having the chance to look. And over that slight 'din', the Royal Advisor spoke with great relish.

"Your Highness, as you can see, that young man is most definitely a wizard! He was looking straight at us as if he had a scrying spell of sorts locked on our personages! We must employ him in the castle!"

**We need a wizard**

"Don't we already have Madame Suliman?" the Queen questioned with concern. Inside, though, she had to admit she preferred the handsome face of the youth in the telescope to the aging, bossy Suliman. So she agreed with the King for once when he said:

"Court wizards are always needed. Besides, Suliman is getting on in her years. She's been pressing me for a good successor for months now, anyway. Wants someone young, she does, and with talent."

**We want talent**

The Advisor nodded, preening slightly that his advice had been accepted. "And allow me to say, Your Highness, I trained under Madame Suliman in my youth. Alack, my talents did not that way tend. She revealed to me that it is difficult indeed to achieve powers of prolonged levitation and/or flight before middle age. An individual who does it in their younger years is a talent not to be wasted!"

"So we seek him out? The man in the sky?" the Governess piped up, semi-hopefully. She could subdue her curiosity no longer.

**Talent with blue-green eyes**

The Queen and Royal Advisor nodded. "We'll need a portrait done, and maybe we could have posters put up and a search conducted," the Queen added. She smiled. An added bonus to help quelch her boredom. Well, she had the ball now, too. The servants scurried about, already forming plans on how to spread the gossip the next day.

**That man… Up there**

"Right," the King said with finality, his ruddy cheeks shining with excitement. "We seek him out. And we start by having Madame Suliman search for him."

**In the night sky**

……………………………………………** End Night 2**

* * *

**Suzu: To my lovely, astute readers—you've probably noticed that it jumps from Night 1 to Night 2. You're thinking: WTH happened? That's fine. All will be explained. Kudos to you if you've noticed. Sit tight until Night 5ish. **

**So, what do you think Howl wanted to show Sophie (readers are probably saying, what? What? I don't remember, it's been so long since you last updated. Sheesh!). Well, here's a hint. It's connected to the paragraph above. **

**Also: "Mrs. Nose" is what Howl sometimes (affectionately?) calls old Sophie in the book. I had to use it (laughs). Also, Howl does wear perfume. Hyacinth is the first scent mentioned in the HMC book.**

**Oh, and before I forget, here's an official posting: Is anyone willing to **BETA** for me? I type everything out in a day or two, so it's no good for me to read over something I just churned out and still be able to spot mistakes. I'm looking for someone willing to take long sentences, ratings potentially up to M (although it won't be severe), and a weird update schedule. (haha)**

**Comments, Criticism, Cookies? Thanks so much for hanging with me guys. All of my readers are the absolute best, whether you're part of ff. net or not, but if you've got this on alerts or faves, why not chip in? **

**Ja ne, **

**Suzu**


	4. Night Three: Landings

**Disclaimer: Alack, I don't own Howl or Sophie. **

**Suzu: Just finished 'House of Many Ways'. Love Twinkle to death. And… I got into my first choice college! Yay!!! Haha… Enough said. **

**Also, a big great thanks and infinite XOXO's to my beta for this chapter, chibi-no-oneesan. She's absolutely wonderful for fitting this 18-page monstrosity into her busy life, and I dedicate this chapter to her. Also a big thank you to everyone who offered to beta. All of you are muchos loved, and I might even tap some of you guys in the future if I'm too lazy to proofread myself. lol**

**Note: apparently, Sophie's eyes are blue/green in the book. For some reason, I'd always imagined and written them as gray. **

**Without further ado about nothing… enjoy.**

* * *

**Seven Nights-**

**Night Three**

**--In Which Landing Comes After Takeoff--**

* * *

"…_Story 'bout a man who was too afraid to fly _

_So he never did land…"_

_-Drops of Jupiter_

_-Train_

* * *

Night Two Reprise:

'Howl'_, she wanted to say, but could not find the energy to speak properly_. 'Howl, what about you? What if the King tries to find you?'

_The last thing she saw was Howl's slight grimace past her shoulder, at where she thought the King and whomever he was with were watching._

* * *

The day had been uneventful (though Sophie had to stop a rather young customer from bringing a Cesari cream pie into the store and smearing it on her best rose bonnet), and Sophie's mind kept wandering back to the guilty look Howl had given her before she fell unconscious and then woke up in the morning in her own bed (frightful, really, once you thought about the implications—but for some reason, Sophie wasn't afraid). But for a steady trickle of customers looking for the season's latest bonnets and trims, the eldest Hatter daughter had been left to her own devices… with enough time to fret and scurry about the carpeted floor much like the gray mouse she 'used' to be.

'_Really, now,' _an inner voice seemed to mock her._ 'As if you are no longer a mouse'_.

She resolutely ignored it.

She also had resolutely ignored the strange glances some of her visitors had been giving her that day. There was always an impressive number of window shoppers who had been attracted to the Hatter shop and the hats when word of her skill spread far enough. Today, however, Sophie had the unsettling feeling that more than just a handful of people had ogled at _her_, not her hats. Some with disapproving looks, others with different degrees of puzzlement and something akin to fear.

Sophie sighed as she eyed the clock on the mantelpiece wearily. Time to close shop. Feeling worn and restless at the same time, the young woman surveyed the shop's interior state of neatness. After she had determined the organization met her standards, Sophie walked over to the front door of the shop to close the blinds and take down the 'OPEN' sign.

She was just to the door when a force on the other side _pushed_ none too gently and forced the solid wooden door to swing back to the inside of the hat shop. Sophie let go off the handle in surprise, stepping back smartly as thoughts raced through her mind.

"Fancy you still running the shop, looking the same…" The girl in the large bonnet and dress of multiple layers of flounces seemed to carry herself gracefully through the door even in her ridiculously voluminous attire, making Sophie's own practical gray dress (albeit her favorite one) look painfully plain in comparison.

The young woman looked up, and Sophie registered with a start that this was Lissy, and those were Lissy's shocking green eyes gleaming at her from under the enormous Kingsbury bonnet. Her fashionably pale white hands reached up to untie the complicated knot at her chin, and Sophie could only guess professionally at how heavy the hat must be.

"One would think you would be off with a man by now, since that Martha Hatter already has a plethora of beaus," Lissy sniffed, and finally managed to smooth out the ribbon and doff the hat. Her fair curls fell down around her heart-shaped face, and Sophie's eyes widened at the noticeably shortened locks.

"You cut your hair," Sophie murmured, feeling quite shocked.

Lissy pursed her lips. "Well, it's not the most outrageous thing that's happened in this town, is it? Just a fresh start, is all. Besides," Lissy stopped and looked at Sophie with something akin to annoyance and frustration. "I wouldn't complain about me now that you've your own problems, Hatter."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sophie murmured. Actually, this was more denial than fact.

"You do know." It was almost a command, the way she phrased it. "Don't be _cute_ with me—take a look at this. They're everywhere; a postman from Kingsbury delivered them at dawn this morning."

Lissy's wrist flicked into her voluminous skirts and withdrew a folded sheet of paper. Her fingers nearly tore the carefully creased pamphlet apart in their haste.

Once it was unfolded, both girls stared at it in tense silence, and if a witless passerby were to see, then the scene wouldn't really be too out of the ordinary.

The paper was a pamphlet, it was plain to see, with the royal insignia stamped on its sides and a hole where it had probably been nailed to some unassuming tree or post. But the witless passerby mentioned above certainly would have condoned such behavior out of two young females due to the handsome likeness depicted on the creased sheet. It was of a man in his twenties, perhaps, with stunning features and a whimsical grin gracing a well-shaped jaw.

"Howl…" Sophie breathed softly in recognition, and then looked up quickly and successfully caught the flicker of some emotion in Lissy's face.

Lissy looked more enraged by the second. "Aha," she said. "I didn't know whether to believe any gossip from Georgina or not two nights ago, but this picture here proves it." She paused, and her face had grown dangerously flushed now. Sophie waited, numb, as Lissy seemed to take a few shallow breaths and find her composure again.

"It's that man, isn't it?" Lissy finally forced out.

Sophie didn't reply, because Lissy didn't need to ask.

"You've been seeing him, then? He's been courting you?"

"No… I mean…" Sophie blushed, but her mind was in a mess. So that was why all the stares were directed at her today! The town must have found out… about her and Howl. Maybe from the night when they had been in the sky…?

Lissy shot Sophie an extremely disapproving look. "No? Well, I'd rather he was. Didn't I give you advice about settling down without being such a prude?"

Sophie was about to retort that those were definitely not Lissy's words to her last time, whatever the outspoken girl's intentions. Lissy cut her off with an impatient snort. Sophie had to stare wonderingly at her, at this girl who a few months ago would have no snorted in any sort of society… Lissy was changed, but more herself, somehow. The coyness had been partially replaced by an alluring sense of confidence, like a girl blossoming into a woman.

"Well, let me tell you something else good, Sophie Hatter. You can thank me later." Lissy paused and seemed to glance around the hat shop for anything 'good' Sophie could thank her with later.

"As you know, there's talk of a Kingsbury ball being hosted in a few days."

Sophie did not know this.

"It's technically not an invite ball, and is open to the public. But every royal ball has standards, especially this one—and do you know why, Sophie Hatter?" Lissy said her name like a retort or a nasty comment. Judging from all the years Lissy had bullied the eldest Hatter daughter for in grammar school, Sophie guessed this wasn't far from the truth. It didn't really bother her anymore, realized Sophie.

"Why?"

One of the infinitely puzzling things about Lissy was where she got all this credible gossip.

"It's a ball for the Royal Princess Valeria. They say they're out to find her a suitable husband."

Sophie glanced at the knowing look on Lissy's face. "How does this concern me?" she asked hesitantly.

Lissy's eyes widened in exasperation. "Well, for one, they certainly aren't going to let any other girls outshine the princess at the ball. Most of the eligible men Princess Valeria or the Royal Family think have a shot will be in a separate ball room than the general public."

"_Two ballrooms?"_ Sophie questioned. Truthfully, she'd never been (or wanted to go) to one of these elaborate affairs.

"Sure. You'll want to be in the same room as Princess Valeria, though. Any self-respecting girl who wants to snatch an 'eligible' bachelor good enough for the princess herself needs to get herself invited to _that particular ballroom_."

"But I'm not invited. And I don't want to—"

"I know, I know. Goody-two-shoes Hatter has no interest in diamonds and estates. Sure, you can say that now. But I'm telling you this for a different reason. Well, first off, _you are invited_. Or you have been, probably, indirectly. Your stepmother Honey got married again, right? Mr. Smith has connections to the throne, as well as a filthy amount of wealth. Your entire family may be invited to that ballroom. Of course, I'll be going, and so will the mayor's daughter."

"But I still don't see why I have to fraternize with—" Sophie cut in hopelessly again.

"Oh, you are a simpleton after all, Hatter! I'm not asking you to flirt with strangers like any normal person! This is directly related to you! To someone you should know well, according to town gossip!" Lissy huffed.

"You see this pamphlet?"

Lissy held the offending yet remarkably easy-on-the-eyes 'wanted' poster up for Sophie to see again. As if Sophie needed to see it again. But the Hatter daughter was beginning to understand where Lissy was going with this.

"Does he look like an eligible candidate to you?" Lissy demanded.

Sophie thought to Horrible Howl's reputation, to his fickleness and all his little secrets.

"No," she said candidly, thinking about poor Valeria's heart's safety.

Lissy had to snap her mouth shut in frustration before explaining to the girl before her. Lissy's finger practically jabbed at the portrait. "Young? Yes. Good-looking? You'd have to be blind to not think so. Eligible gentlemen don't need a loudly proclaimed title or duchy if they have mysterious allure. He. Has. That."

Sophie still wasn't entirely convinced. Howl was charming, certainly… but practical Sophie didn't equate that with being the same thing as 'eligibility'.

"But didn't he refuse you that one time, Liss—" Sophie stopped, careful to not reveal more of what Howl's charmed memory spell had shown her about Lissy's failed attempt to nab Howl for herself.

Lissy's eyes narrowed, but she didn't inquire as to how Sophie knew. "I know better now. But Her Royal Highness doesn't.

He'll be in that ballroom, Sophie Hatter. And I don't really care what the town gossips say about notoriety and whatnot. I personally think it's just Georgina throwing a girlie hissy fit again… Sophie Hatter, if you want him, _go get him back_."

* * *

It was the same man who ruled the country while sending pompous royal messengers to his prosperous shop in Kingsbury at the same time (in some countries, they called it begging, bothering, generally being an imperious pain in the neck). Howl found that even with a heart, he didn't feel an iota of sympathy for the man. Really. The thought of all those seven league boot commissions he'd gotten nearly made his (rather well-formed, Howl thought smugly) face drain to a pale white.

"The likeness is not very striking, is it?" Howl laughed in his mellow tenor, holding up the more ragged piece of paper in his left hand.

His eyes traced over the generous curve of the jaw, the sunny yellow hair, and the nose, a tad less aristocratic than Howl's. Despite the face being less angular than the original features, the eyes, Howl thought, were rather well depicted. The blue-green ink flashed off the page at him, and Howl grinned wryly before setting the WANTED pamphlet off to the side of the cluttered wooden bench.

They had finally physically caught him just minutes ago. Or, rather, caught all his aliases. Howl might have the best divination skills in the country, but he had to admit the Royal Witch of Ingary was no slouch.

Madame Suliman.

He'd met her only once, and that time, Howl had his hair dyed a blue-black, and both his magic and self had been very impressionable. She'd taken him under her wing and coached him for about a week at her private estates before Howl had run off with a court noble lady. The idea of 'teacher' presented itself in a gloomy, grave title. At the time Howl'd left, he'd felt that Suliman would be the death of him, chasing after his magic, trying to dig out his potential and resorting to such lengths Howl felt he was being tied down with coarse rope.

She was still as good at seeking magic as she'd been back then, apparently. Howl had probably slipped, either intentionally or not. He initially hadn't bargained that the King would use Madame Suliman to catch him, or that Madame Suliman would use a seeker bug to infiltrate his defenses. One particularly slimy black peeper bug had scorched a mark on his dining table before Howl had thrown the thing into Calcifer's gaping mouth. The fire demon had left after that, and so far had not returned to the castle yet. Howl told himself he wouldn't be sorry if Calcifer didn't ever come back… he already had his heart back, after all.

The message on the table had been cheeky almost, burnt past the finished grain of the tabletop and searing the inner flesh of the wood. 'Greetings; Wizard Jenkins, Pendragon, Howl', it had said, successfully linking all three names. Howl winced at the memory of the past few hours of his life.

He picked up the other document, delivered exactly ten minutes ago; this one was printed on heavy cream paper and plastered with royal insignias and official looking ribbons. Howl grimaced, and peered anxiously at the door. They would have troops, or magical wards, placed at each portal to prevent him from leaving without detection by Madame Suliman… or worse: capture.

"I don't _want_ to be Royal Wizard," Howl groaned mock-pathetically, eyeing the empty hearth and half-expecting a witty retort.

Calcifer was still gone. Choice timing, that. Perhaps it was better if the fire demon did not come back. Calcifer certainly wouldn't want his new freedom taken away from him, the selfish little ball of fire.

He would have slithered out of this one to the best of his ability… if he were sure there would be no repercussions. But now he had Sophie to worry about, and his name as well as what little future he could scavenge for her with it to protect.

"Blast", Howl murmured, brushing the bangs from his forehead and taking small comfort from the impeccable silkiness of the strands. "Once you tie yourself down to something, everyone comes barging in to tie you down some more… until you can't move, most likely."

He'd just have to deal with the King, then. Turn him and all of Ingary down politely.

But not without precautions, no. For one, Howl would have to hide that he was the one the King had asked for seven league boots from months ago.

For another, Madame Suliman must be avoided, at all costs. Even Howl did not know if he could hide his true identity from her as the boy from years ago. Howl would charm and bow and subtly self-efface himself to freedom. Somehow.

But first, Sophie needed to be reached. He could do it now, in the safety of his own castle, before the last of the magical wards disintegrated with time and the constant battering from Suliman's magic from outside.

Howl conjured a piece of white note card and began to write. Even in the midst of the magical hammering and physical battering Howl felt on his wards from the outside, his heart still found the 'heart' to skip a beat as he penned the words 'Dearest Sophie' on what Howl fervently hoped would not turn into a farewell letter.

He sent the card on its way with a flick of magic.

Right before he felt both his Porthaven and Kingsbury doors crash open.

* * *

"Welcome back, Princess."

The slender form flounced into her chambers, sighing whimsically and brushing by every curtain as if absorbing back the memories of her childhood well spent. The light pattering of equally light-hearted footsteps stopped as the young woman's face twisted into an unsatisfied look. She stopped dancing.

"It's good to be back… is what I'd like to say. Steward, why are my bags still not in these rooms? I thought the staff would have been done carrying my things over and refurbishing my rooms ages ago," Valeria pouted prettily.

"It seems they are all busy with preparations for the ball, Princess." The elderly steward bowed low, as if repentant.

Valeria cocked a naturally elegant eyebrow. She was incredibly fond of her eyebrows.

"So why didn't you have the soldier and guards assist me instead?" She tapped her fingernail against the posts of her large bed, assessing the dusting job done by the maids.

"Ah. That. They were busy with a recent skirmish within the country and castle, Princess."

Valeria knew gossip when she heard it. She pressed for information.

"Skirmish? Surely not. I hadn't heard anything about a war or rebellion."

"Well, it involved magics." The steward made a sign to ward off bad luck. He didn't like magic, particularly. Even if he was naturally superstitious.

"Magic!" Now Valeria was definitely interested. Wizards, witches, spells, curses… now those were the stuff of fairytales and epics. Most exciting.

"There's a wizard they've been trying to find in the realm, I believe. The king and queen are having one of their little competitions about it. Suliman found him just today, and they've finally tracked him to his abode this evening or so," the steward said haltingly.

"He's coming to the castle, then?" Valeria was all smiles. Now she would have something to kill off time with while she waited for her newly acquired wardrobe to be unpacked.

"He just arrived. The guards are making sure the wizard doesn't do any of his funny magic business." The steward's voice was tinged with nervousness.

Valeria laughed, a twinkling sound.

"This is certainly new! We've only mostly had Suliman and her apprentices. Bless her soul, but she always did fail at magicking my vegetables to taste any better. To this day I think she left the taste as is on purpose, the dear old witch. But… Why did Mother and Father go out of the way to find a rogue wizard, I wonder…" Valeria mused to herself. "Steward, is there any way I could see this wizard? Do you know his location in the castle?"

The kindly old steward started. "Now, Princess. Don't be hasty… it could be dangerous!" The man realized his mistaken choice of wording when Valeria's eyes lit up at the word.

"No, I mean… it would be boring, not fit for a princess like yourself, totally drab…"

Valeria took the old man's hands in her own and smiled, as if to reassure her longtime steward. "Now, don't worry, Steward. I'm only going so I can grab some of the guards positioned there to lug my things back to my rooms. If it just so happens that I get a peek of this wizard in the process, well, then… you certainly wouldn't blame me for being improper, would you, dear Steward?"

Valeria's hazel eyes positively twinkled, and the old man found himself caving. No surprise there. Everyone in the castle eventually did… to Valeria's wishes and charm, that is. The steward wrung his hands desperately, feeling dreadfully apologetic and mumbling about failing in his duty to the king.

Meanwhile, the princess had twirled out of the large private room only to rush back again and toss a question over her shoulder.

"What did you say his name was?" Valeria shouted.

The old man craned his neck, and shouted back in his finest, most valiant effort. "I believe some of the cleaning maids heard him say it was '_Owl_', Princess."

"Thank you! I'll be off, then!"

Eventually, Valeria found an assembly of people in the second stateroom her father sometimes used for congregations. The main hall was all marble arches and the thin stripe of velvet carpet. There was a small crowd of servants congregated at the entrance of the stateroom.

She pitter pattered as silently on the marble hallways as one could in fashionable shoes, careful not to attract any attention to herself as her lone footsteps echoed into what was a room partially filled with important looking people. The mass of white powdered wig on what the princess recognized was her father's head made Valeria giggle lightly to herself as she nudged her way through the center of the throng of people to be nearer to him.

Valeria caught wisps on conversation as she drifted by. Almost reaching her father and his (snobby and impossibly large-nosed as ever, thought Valeria) Royal Advisor, Valeria stopped, holding back and tucking her shawl so that it draped over her waves of hair and lower chin somewhat. Not a very good disguise, but well enough to hide the great glittering gems stitched in the upper part of her bodice. Those were as conspicuous as anything could get, though that was what she'd been aiming for when she'd had the dress made.

Her father, dressed in his red and yellow finery, was engaged in conversation with some of his counselors and lesser advisors, while the Royal Advisor stuck his nose in the air for better leverage when the said nose had to come down in one very well pronounced nod of agreement for the king. Valeria moved around their rather exclusive circle, growing impatient that the wizard seemed nowhere to be seen.

"—but we have Suli—and she could—disagree?…"

"—It was partly _her_ idea to—wizard seems courtly enough, even if—no motivation—smart man…"

Valeria circled, moved closer to those talking. She had her shawl tucked fully around her now, and stuck to the areas of the circle where other courtiers were trying to enter the conversation. Not too close—her father would be angry if he caught her sneaking around the halls after dark, listening in on what he called 'adult business'.

"I do admit he's talented enough, Sir Herman! But what about his disposition?"

"He's not hostile, certainly!"

"But very much so apathetic!"

"That's just show… the man is a schemer if I ever saw one. Like Prince Justin, though, luckily, he's away in Strangia for business."

"Don't equate it to their ages. It's the thought that counts."

"Gentlemen… think of his stores of knowledge. Suliman knows him, apparently. She says she's had her eye on him since a while ago."

"That's certainly impressive."

"That Suliman… if she were any less revered than she is, I'd say the witch is practically impossible to get along with, much less impress."

"We agree he's a good match for the position then?"

"Speaking of which, where is the man?"

Valeria moved farther again as the men in the circle shuffled their robes and feet nervously. Exactly what she wanted to ask.

"—Bathroom, or so he said—almost quarter of an hour already—suspicious…"

Valeria threaded her way back to the entrance of the stateroom. Already, the muffled din and velvet carpets were getting to her. She could never stand stuffy rooms for long. The princess of Ingary quickly went to the front of the room again, dropped her shawl back to its former position on her shoulders, and processed all the information she'd picked up in the stateroom. She was fairly lost in her thoughts… apparently, Suliman knew him. Were they old chums? Would he have a great white beard to match Suliman's wizened old staff?

Valeria smiled as she walked faster back to her rooms, meandering through smaller and smaller passages to follow a childhood shortcut to her room, then remembered that she had a mission to grab some soldiers to help her move her things back to her room. She was just about to switch directions and walk to the soldier's barracks and their usual posts in the castle when she spotted three soldiers turn a corner into her corridor up ahead. The well-placed oil lamps hanging from the walls lighted their features.

Valeria waved. "Greetings there!"

A brown-haired one tipped his blue hat before bending over in a quick bow, which the other two quickly followed. "Princess! Greetings, and welcome home. Is there anything you need tonight?"

Valeria approached them. "You're needed to help me bring my articles to my chambers."

"Why, certainly, but—" the soldier started.

His companion spoke up. "Now, now. I'm sure a few midnight drills aren't enough to keep all of us away from helping the princess. You go on. Jenkins and I will stay." Valeria noticed this soldier had charming blue-green eyes. He was most people's definition of a very handsome man, and if Valeria hadn't been so well versed in political and romantic trysts she would have blushed.

"But you're new at the castle. Are you sure you want to miss drill—s?" The first soldier trailed off.

Valeria watched with interest as the original brown-haired soldier's mouth seemed to clamp up. He stiffened like a board, and practically military-marched away without so much as a good bye. This happened all in a span of about 5 seconds or so.

"He's a stickler, that one."

Valeria turned her attention from the retreating figure to the two men before her. The one that spoke was the blonde one who had volunteered to help her. His voice was just as attractive as his features, and Valeria noted the smug quirk of his lips as he watched his fellow soldier march away. The other man, the third soldier, had gingerish hair and very vague features.

"You must forgive him, Princess," the blonde soldier said with more than a little humor in his voice.

Valeria couldn't help but be charmed. He was the most dazzling soldier she'd ever met in her life.

Valeria laughed. "Yes, but Rufus has always been loyal to the throne and country in the years he's been with us. But you, soldier, and your companion… you are new additions to the troops, I presume?"

"Not terribly new. It's been almost ten minutes." His eyes, bluer now as he leaned away from the wall lights, glinted with what Valeria's essentially maidenly heart recognized instantaneously as _dash_ and _roguishness_. Most impressive. And was that mysterious allure she spotted in those large, clear eyes?

So mysteriously alluring was this whole encounter that Valeria nearly missed the meaning of his words. She mentally pulled herself together. "What do you mean? And what about your soft-spoken companion? Also _ten minutes_, I'm to believe?"

"You mock him. He's been a soldier all his life, Princess!" the man said in a tone fit for one of those dramatic and elongated play soliloquies Valeria's mother enjoyed so much.

Valeria turned to the ginger-haired silent soldier, the monarch's presence in her rising. "Well?" she declared in her best ruling voice, and tried very hard to focus on the face of the silent man. "What do you have to say on the matter, Soldier?"

A rich chuckle from outside her field of vision broke her concentration in staring at the vague features of the ginger-haired man. That blonde soldier was laughing at her!

"What's so funny?" Valeria demanded, flushing hot at the laughter.

"He doesn't speak, I'm afraid."

Valeria's eyes went wide at this, and the blonde soldier's said dashing smile became even wider. "That function seemed unnecessary when I made him," the man managed through light chuckles.

"You… what?"

"I haven't lied to you so far… amazing, really. I suppose we might as well have the truth out now. My companion here is a temporary glamour made of magic, though you can touch him if you concentrate." The soldier's eyes seemed to gleam through his golden bangs, before he continued. "He's only been in this world for ten minutes as a soldier, so it's hardly fair for you to brand him as soft-spoken so quickly, is it, Princess Valeria?"

His unflinching gaze seemed to pierce through her, and Valeria almost shivered, as her knees became weak. The blonde man smiled, and seemed to sigh in resignation before one hand swept through his fine strands of fair hair and the other hand flicked in a pattern in the air before her.

The other soldier with ginger hair (the magical being, Valeria corrected herself) vanished. There wasn't even so much as a puff of smoke. Valeria was left gaping at empty space. In her shock, she somehow managed to put two and two together all right.

"Wi-wizard…" the princess stuttered, before catching herself in embarrassment. "I mean… you're Wizard Owl!"

Wizard Owl tilted his head a fraction as he regarded her coolly. "Actually, last time I checked, I was not in possession of any nocturnal bird species, Princess."

"No!" Valeria shook her head furiously, excitement mounting at her discovery. The wizard wasn't an old man after all! She had thought him to be an ancient, old thing initially because of Suliman's claim to know him. This man couldn't be more than thirty, at the very most. "I mean, that's your name!"

He looked at her quizzically through blonde bangs that fell gracefully across his forehead. The wizard seemed mildly perturbed at the mention of his name from her lips.

"Wizard Owl? I'm sorry to disappoint again, but my name is…" he paused indecisively, then seemed to make up his mind.

"Howl. Valeria, you may call me Howl."

**Enchanted**

Valeria's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before she quickly masked her surprise. "Horrible Howl, then? I've heard many stories of you on my trip through the rural frontier roads."

Howl's full lips were pressed together lightly as his blue eyes became darker and he seemed to stare straight down into Valeria's expression, as if measuring her up. Valeria felt that thrilling chill run up and down her spine again, tickling her toes and making the slight hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. A faint breeze swept through the corridor and the flame in the oil lamps flickered uncertainly.

**Enchanté**

"Are you Horrible Howl?" she repeated.

**As they say in Franglais**

He leaned close, and Valeria stood there, transfixed, utterly and inextricably unable to move.

"I expected no less from a member of the royal family," he breathed. If the stunning man hadn't been as close as he was—too close—Valeria would not have heard the slight chuckle that followed.

**Enchanté to meet you**

Howl's hand was suddenly on her shoulder. It felt like a soft, cool breeze. His fingers played with the tips of the pieces of hair that had fallen out of place since that morning. Valeria's pulse raced, and she felt blood surge in her ears as she imagined the tips of his fingers lightly brushing her cheek the way Howl's eyes were doing at the moment.

/Valeria had a terrible Franglian accent//But this seemed the perfect time to use it/

"Marry me."

**On such a courtly person**

The spell, if it was a spell, which Valeria was rather sure it was (even without magic), broke as soon as she uttered those simple words. They were essentially demands.

She essentially meant them.

It was the first time such a thought had crossed her mind with any potential marriage candidate.

Then Howl stepped back.

* * *

Howl watched as the shadows from the flickering flames on each wall played over Valeria's face. She really was quite the beauty, with her glossy, mahogany curls that were parted fashionably and tucked into two loose, trailing braids. Her creamy complexion paled as her eyes became wide and flushed.

"Are you Horrible Howl?"

Howl watched in a detached manner as comprehension dawned on her, as her rosy lips opened and closed and then opened again to say, to demand:

"Marry me."

He stepped back, partly from shock, partly from the still unfamiliar physical strain of his heart flip flopping in his chest as the one girl _he'd_ proposedto came to mind.

It clicked for Howl then. The princess would be his bargaining chip. He was fairly sure already, from the flush in her cheeks and the way her chest rose and fell in uneven rhythm as soon as he called her given name. Just the fact that he'd wanted to get in her good graces by charming her into doing him a favor certainly didn't make him a 'loose' criminal.

He needed the girl, to buy his own freedom. Howl could only get so far out of the castle before Suliman detected him and brought him back. It would be so much more effective if he had the Royal Princess Valeria of Ingary catering to his whims.

Surely, it wasn't a sin to use a girl to be able to marry another. The 'greater good' principle, or so they say it.

He murmured a quick charm under his breath, satisfied as the lights grew dimmer and then seemed to concentrate on him, creating a breathtaking sort of glow around his form. If Valeria noticed anything unusual, she didn't protest. Her rapt expression urged Howl on as much as his need for freedom, his instinct for survival did.

"Princess, I—" he began.

"Oh, just call me Valeria! No need for formali—"

He cut her words off with a meaningful look into her eyes. Valeria's large blue eyes were wide and searching, and for a second Howl remembered Sophie's haunted, accusatory look the day he showed her his memories.

"Valeria…" The spell should have started taking effect about now.

She swooned. Howl stepped closer and carefully wrapped an arm around her slender waist. He implored her.

"I _need_ to leave this place. I need you to tell your father to let me go free."

His own voice was insistent, mesmerizing. Like a gentle lover under moonlight. His warm tenor echoed slightly off the very dust particles in the air while Howl watched, satisfied, as Valeria's expression took on a blissful, nearly hollow look.

"Why… leave…" Valeria's voice was soft, and she brought her arms up to clutch the chain mail at Howl's chest.

"Not leave, _escape_. It's dangerous for me here, Valeria."

Valeria's eyes seemed to shift focus. Her head tilted upwards slowly, and a surprised Howl had no time to react before she quickly looped her arms around his neck and firmly pressed her lips to his for a chaste kiss.

Howl faltered. Just for a second, but it was enough for the charm to break and for Valeria's senses to clear. She removed her arms from him, regained her balance, and a spark returned to her eyes before the princess shook her head as if to reorient herself.

He stared at her, shocked and cursing himself that she'd regained her composure so quickly. The feverish look was gone and replaced by a fresh sort of yearning in her glowing face.

He wanted to magick her out of her senses. Use a more powerful spell to right the situation, which was quickly getting out of hand. There was nothing wrong—it was self-preservation. Suliman and the rest of the heads of state would realize he wasn't near the stateroom or bathrooms soon enough, might have already realized. But Sophie…

An image of Sophie kept showing up in his mind's eye. Sophie and her wide, doe-like eyes, her glowing face and the utter sincerity in her eyes as she said she hated him, as she said she cared for him. Every time he was about to give in and just take Valeria hostage using stronger magic, an image of Sophie Hatter's distraught face seemed to merge with Valeria's. Howl swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth.

"Marry me, Howl. _Oh_, say you will. I'll keep you from any sort of danger in the castle if you'll only be mine."

The wizard just managed to keep his smile in place. Valeria's slender hands gripped his shoulders. Her voice rang out with such conviction he nearly grimaced at the sincerity.

"Valeria," Howl's voice was soothing, and his execution perfectly smooth, if not tinged with just the right amount of angst. "The people here will hunt me down. You must help me escape first, or Madame Suliman will—"

"No she won't! She won't! I'll fire her for it. And you mustn't leave my side, Howl. I—I think I'm in love with you."

Howl was growing steadily more uncomfortable. Valeria was a smart girl, born and bred in politics, adept at debate, used to getting her way. And what was worse—she was enamored by him.

"Don't leave me Howl," Ingary's princess cried. "I'd do anything for you."

"Except save my life," Howl cut in dryly. There was no reaching her now. She wasn't just enamored by him—she was enamored at the very _thought_ of being in love with him. Those types of girls were the worst, the hardest to get away from, the ones with screaming aunts that found you months later and tried to stab at you with their parasols.

"Except let you leave," Valeria corrected gently.

Howl's head hurt. His piercing blue eyes grew dull as hope seemed to shrink further and further into the distance. In normal circumstances, he would have left her long ago. Women like this were dangerous to deal with. But Valeria was his only means of escape. He needed to leave with his dignity intact, with his reputation mostly unsoiled. This was the only way back to Sophie. Sophie, who was probably still waiting for him.

"Even for one night?" he asked, suddenly feeling extremely tired and drained of his magic.

Valeria seemed to note Howl's weariness. Her brows knit together and tears seemed to well in her beautiful blue eyes at the thought of her loved one being in pain. "There is one way…" she murmured.

Howl nearly hugged the girl. His mind whirred. One night was all he needed. One night to get away from all of this once and for all. To escape. To get back to Sophie. To the castle. Instead, Howl opted for flashing one of his best smiles at her. Valeria blushed.

"On one condition. You must promise to marry me first."

Valeria giggled, blushed rosier. Howl stood there, numb—

**You could say his past was catching up**

—head hurting and wondering how he was going to slither out of this one, as Sophie might say.

**To him**

"I can'—mmh."

Valeria had kissed him again. She flushed at her own daring and whirled away nearly as quickly, running down the darkened hallway, loose curls bouncing. Valeria paused, turned around for a second, and Howl's heart nearly stopped at the rapturous smile on her face as she exclaimed:

"Wait for me, Wizard Howl! I'm telling Daddy about the engagement right away!"

…………………………………………………………………End Night 3

* * *

**Suzu: Oh the irony.**

**Well, originally, this chapter had at least two more scenes. But then it would have just gotten ridiculously long (for me to write in one go, that is). Luckily for the readers, I'm picking up the two scenes in the next chapter, extending them, and giving you a teaser in this chapter. So you guys won't lose out in the end. Promise. **

**Sorry about the lack of romance in this chapter—Sophie/Howl, anyways. They'll be angst and fluff and sexual tension later. Oh goody! Ooh, and a major plot twist. Can't forget that. Look forward to it next chapter! :D**

_**About Valeria**_**: well, I kind of figured most people would hate her, you know? But in a way, she's an ideal sort of girl. Very self-reliant, independent, and confident in what she wants—quite the opposite of how Sophie was at the beginning. If Valeria's headstrong and impulsive… well, I guess that's part of her nature in being the only daughter of a prosperous Royal couple. Also, because in the original book sequel, Castle in the Air, Valeria is described to be a raging, roaring infant/toddler, I figured her strong personality would stick even in my aged version of this Ingarian princess. **

**Comments, Criticism, or Congrats-on-actually-getting-into-one-college-after-all reviews all appreciated. Wow, that was shameless. Haha…**

**Ja ne, and thanks to everyone for sticking it out with this story. Next time I see you, we'll be halfway through the series! :o**

**-Suzu**

* * *

Teaser:

"Howl needs to be cleansed. His magic is tainted by the raw elemental power of a fire demon. Give him here to me—I will deal with him, as my former 'pupil' of sorts." Suliman smiled wryly.

The King mopped at his brow hastily, feeling rather overcome with parental anxiety. "B-but his heart? Does he love my daughter?"

Suliman laughter rang out over the elaborate greenhouse. "Your Majesty, have you not _heard_? Howl has no heart."


	5. PreNight Four: Reception

**Disclaimer: Well, I haven't done this in awhile. Nothing has changed since the last time I wrote a disclaimer, though. : (**

**Suzu: So… officially, this was supposed to be in Night 3. However, since Night 3 would have been ridiculously long… and the events and timing would seem rushed and unreal if I had tagged it in… this sub-chapter is being released. **

**I call it pre-night 4. Get it? Haha, 'Seven Days' had one of these too. Basically, just think of this chapter as a daytime happenstance. Okay. Cool? Let's rock and roll. **

**Note: Horrible Howl, Wizard Pendragon, and Sorcerer Jenkins are the same people. In this story so far, we know that Horrible Howl (Market Chipping/Wastelands) and Wizard Pendragon (Kingsbury) definitely exist. In the King's castle, Howl is referred to as Pendragon more because it is his Kingsbury alias. Suliman refers to him as Horrible Howl because that's the only alias that really affirms his bad habits and heartlessness.**

……………………………

**Seven Nights-**

**Prelude to Night 4**

**--In Which Receptions Are Rather Unwelcome--**

……………………………

It was the early, early morn when the King of Ingary rushed into Royal Witch Suliman's quarters in a royal night robe—an expensive and ridiculously long curtain of frilled fabric.

Madame Suliman was up already, and the King almost—_almost_—felt quite embarrassed to be in his giant lavender-pink nightgown next to Suliman's simpler, but still very stiff and elegant, early morning dressing robes. If the King of Ingary had not known Suliman for years, he would never have guessed at her early morning rituals of rising before even the sun. Divination, apparently, was best practiced during these wee hours of the day. Not that the King himself would have liked to find out—this was essentially why he hired Royal Wizards, in any case.

"Good morning, your Majesty."

"G'night, Suliman… I mean, Good morning… Oh, never mind that! Suliman!" The King inhaled and his face became even blotchier and his complexion stormier, as if he had just swallowed a wad of dishcloth from the kitchen that magically enlarged while they were inside his mouth. This was the general procedure anytime the King came seeking advice from the Royal Witch; it was always agitation at the dead of night or early morning, and then a look of hurt pride before the man proceeded to spill all of his troubles on to Suliman's lap so she could unravel the mysteries of life for him.

Typical.

"Valeria… m-marriage… no… too y-young… h-he, he can't…"

"Now, Majesty. Calm yourself. A man as articulate as you should be able to express himself in more than one or two word phrases." Suliman's voice was rich and full of authority. The King faltered.

"B-but she l…l…lov…l-l-loves—" The King pronounced the word with difficulty, and Suliman worried mildly that he might tear a hole into his robe with all his fidgeting with the lace edging. "She l-loves him!" he exclaimed finally, and looked about Suliman's ornate anteroom wonderingly, as if surprised at this great revelation himself.

"Who is 'he', your Majesty? Please do enlighten me." Although Suliman had a pretty good guess already.

The King clamped shut, then opened his mouth wide and looked quite happy and proud, but then clamped his mouth shut again and glowered darkly at one of his lace cuffs. "Wizard H-Howl…" he finally muttered.

"Interesting. I would dare to guess that Princess Valeria suggested this whole engagement. And you're opposed to this marriage, I surmise?"

The King floundered, looked helpless. "I just want dear Vallie to be _happy_," he said, as if pleading with Suliman to understand. "A parent's woes, dear Suliman. I don't believe you would understand… though you are infinitely wise in other matters, certainly. And well, a wizard doesn't hurt. I hear he's a powerful one, so I just thought I would confirm things with you and…"

"Ask for my advice," Suliman finished for him. The King nodded, looking up with hopeful eyes and brushing at his beard excitedly. "Very well—"

"—I oppose."

She paused, and then continued. "He's an infant still in maturity level."

The King had taken to twisting his beard now, which was rather hard, seeing as it wasn't very long. Cut for convenience. His Royal Majesty looked at Suliman expectantly, like a child, waiting for her to continue.

"Howl needs to be cleansed. His magic is tainted by the raw elemental power of a fire demon. Give him here to me—I will deal with him, as my former 'pupil' of sorts." Suliman smiled wryly.

The King mopped at his brow hastily, feeling rather overcome with parental anxiety. "B-but his heart? Does he love my daughter?"

Suliman laughter rang out over the elaborate greenhouse. "Your Majesty, have you not _heard_? Howl has no heart."

The King gasped loudly. "No heart… th-that's preposterous."

"It is not preposterous, though neither is it natural. But Howl is a wizard, and a powerful one at that." Suliman sighed, and for a second she seemed very old—quite like her true age.

"So… Suliman, you are most definitely, unshakably against the engagement my daughter proposes?" The King of Ingary's voice rang, resigned yet powerful—a struggle between the doting father and a powerful head of a country was present in his twisted features.

Madame Suliman looked at the King of Ingary. Her steely eyes softened at the man she had known since his birth—the clumsy boy who had turned into a sometimes-bumbling, yet benevolent and determined king. And a struggling father. Sometimes, Madame Suliman wondered if it would have been better for Prince Justin to take over the throne; he was far more strategic and subtle. But certainly, the current King—the man before her—made up for his shortcomings with heart.

"Let him be tested," Suliman acquiesced. "We will test Howl for any evil enchantments and unnatural aspects of his magic. If he passes, then he is suitable for love and marriage with Princess Valeria. They will marry then, after the royal ball you have planned. And with my blessings."

The King looked up at Suliman's expressionless face, pensive.

"And if he is fails the test?"

"Why, then there's no hope for it. I will strip him of all his magic and power. Permanently."

* * *

_Drip _

_Drip_

_Drip Drip_

"You can't be serious."

"The King's orders." The soldier looked resolute as Howl studied his features in the dim lighting of the dungeon. When Howl turned away, the soldier stole a quick, nervous glance at the wizard. Why wasn't the man fighting back? The soldier had heard all sorts of stories about this mysterious Wizard Pendragon's power. The man could fly, for heaven's sake! Other than the prosperous shop Pendragon ran in Kingsbury, the man was apparently also a notorious lady-killer named Howl or something of that sort in some other cities. Or, at least, that's what the castle rumor-mongers had been spreading.

"Well, I guess it can't be helped, then, my good fellow. Although, please, wouldn't you consider just going to the kitchen and getting me a scrap to eat? I've hardly done anything wrong, and it would be horribly rude to make this reception even worse than it's been."

Wizard Pendragon had a surprisingly mild voice—it was pleasant enough, and if the soldier wasn't already married to his wife of ten years he would worry that the wizard's fair looks would steal his Bonny away.

"No can do…sir." The soldier quickly closed his mouth. The word 'sir' just came out on its own, probably due to the noble aura this wizard had about him.

Wizard Pendragon didn't struggle as the other man led him into a slightly less damp dungeon cell and closed the door after Howl.

Howl Pendragon looked out at him from behind the bars with a trace of forlornness in his blue eyes. "Well, mate. I know it's not your fault. But if you could—ah," Howl stopped abruptly as he heard footsteps coming down the stairs to the dark dungeon.

A woman's shape came into view. The dungeon was silent save for the sound of flickering candles and descending footsteps.

"Well, well—if it isn't Howl."

The voice was cool and slightly melodious. But the faint ripple of power it carried caused the flames in the candles lighting the dungeon to flicker and shift.

Howl's eyes widened as he came face to face with the Royal Sorceress of Ingary—Madame Suliman. He quickly recomposed his expression, though. _Never give up your emotions. Don't show your thoughts._ Just as she had taught him to do—so many years ago.

Howl's voice was pleasantly nonchalant as he addressed his former teacher.

"You seem well, Madame Suliman."

Madame Suliman waved the soldier away with a slight dismissal from her hand. "I wish I could say the same for you, Howl. I do hope you don't think this is the way we treat most guests at the castle. But for you… I guess you could say these are special circumstances."

Madame Suliman's smile was bland, yet perfectly refined and carefully polite in a way that spoke of years of training.

Howl laughed lightly in response. "Circumstances? Special? I do believe you said something along those lines when you divined my future for me when I was a child."

Suliman's smile grew wider. "Perhaps. Though I did have such high hopes for you, Howl. I always did say you were my best pupil."

"Were? Am I not still?"

"You chose to forgo the rest of your education at the castle, Howl. An unfinished apprenticeship is just that. But let's not discuss such things. I hear you've grown sweet on the Princess."

Howl smiled crookedly and tapped at the thick iron bars separating them. There was something off about the sound of the metal, though. "Not exactly."

Suliman's eyebrow shot up. "'Not exactly?' Are you merely fooling her, then? Leading Princess Valeria on? That's certainly shocking, Howl."

"Why, Madame Suliman. Surely, you trust me to be a gentleman in every situation. I would never dare to lead on such an innocent." Howl grinned. "But if you must know, she is quite taken by me." The last confession was said half jokingly, but warily.

There was something off about the taste in the air now. Suliman stared at him patiently from across the prisoner's cage. Howl noted the polish of the metal bars, the lack of rust and deterioration.

He stepped back from the prison bars, realizing.

"You…"

"Howl, no need to be afraid." Madame Suliman's voice was magnified. "This is merely a precaution."

"You had this especially made for me?" Howl tried to keep his voice calm, tried to laugh it off. But he noticed the white-ish markings on the floor now. Mandrakes. Set up in a circle. It was very hard to keep the fear from his voice now. "How much does the King know?"

"Oh, as much as he needs to know. And this wasn't made for you, Howl. Merely renovated. I had the old prison coated with new metal work, ore that was tempered with magic. The stones you stand on are perfectly normal, with some charms written on them by yours truly."

Howl grimaced at Suliman quickly. Her smile stayed the same.

Those weren't mere charms. Those were symbols designed to remove the very essence of a magic user.

"I…" The protest died in Howl's throat as he felt the air around him thicken.

This was a trap. He knew now. He knew from the beginning.

Suliman caught him. Suliman was going to catch him now… more than physically. She was going to… going to…

Suliman's voice rang out to him in the hazy edges of his consciousness.

"Just a precaution, Howl. Simply a temporary sacrifice."

* * *

_Drip_

Howl came to as a fat droplet of water splattered across his nose.

He had no idea what time it was now, and he was vaguely aware of the physical hunger in his stomach. But far more pervasive was the hunger gnawing at his very being.

It consumed him.

A ripping ache from inside and outside.

He tried to rationalize, organize his thoughts. _A terrible thing to lose…_

Terrible.

Unthinkable.

Footsteps now.

Approaching… descending into his tiny hellish cell.

Howl gulped, tried to grapple with the terrible dryness in his throat. It wasn't thirst for water. Not that. He wanted something back. He wanted…

"Howl!"

A voice rang out, interrupting his thoughts. It was female, and Howl vaguely registered that he'd heard it before.

He realized he was kneeling, ruining his good pants in the filth of the dungeon cell. The voice was from slightly above him. In front of him.

**Thirsty**

"Howl, it's me! Valeria."

Out of sheer effort, Howl organized another chain of rational thought. Valeria. Princess. She had the influence he needed.

But not enough.

Not nearly enough to right this wrong.

He raised his head to look at her. This vision was slightly clouded, but her lovely features were still distinguishable in the haze of his obsessive thirst for magic.

Valeria's pretty face contorted as she stared at him. "Howl! … How could they do this to you? You should have told me! I found out from rumors from the soldiers! All morning and afternoon—how horrible…"

Howl laughed.

It was so ironic.

He didn't know what else to do.

It was so stupid.

He knew she was still useful to him… she could still help him.

But what was the use? What was the _point _now that his magic was gone?

Gone.

Valeria… she would never, could never, understand.

Could never bring it back.

"Howl! Howl!"

She was calling him again.

He tried to focus on her voice, as if to push the raging yearning in his soul away to the corner. It was nearly impossible. At the same time, he pushed away her voice. He didn't want to be reminded of such petty things such as physical freedom—not when his magic had already been stripped away.

It was like a hole had been torn in the middle of his chest, and he needed something to fill it again. It was also like the pressure around him in the atmosphere and cell's air had suddenly shrunk and all the world had pulled away from his fingertips. He was unable to interact with them like he had before. He was powerless and isolated. Handicapped from inside and out.

"Howl! Marry me, Howl! I'll do my best to get you out of here once you become my husband! Are you listening, Darling? Let's become engaged as soon as possible! They can't deny the royal heir and partner."

The offer didn't affect him as it had before.

There was no longer shock, disgust, even a bit of temptation.

There was just apathy, and a vague alarm that sounded in his head and told him that marrying her would accomplish nothing in terms of getting his magic back.

Valeria's voice grew insistent. "Please become my fiancé, Howl. You'll see both my parents at the upcoming ball! And then we'll go meet Suliman together!"

Suliman.

Madame Suliman.

Howl's senses felt as if they were on fire.

Suliman had the answer. Suliman… she was the one who maimed him, who gave him everything and then took it all away. If she took it away, she could give it back. Could she give it back?

Suliman.

He had to get out of here.

Howl wiped at the dampness on his skin with a less than clean hand. The shadows on the wall flickered as sounds of people approaching echoed down the cramped, dark hallways.

Two soldiers were fast approaching. They flanked Valeria, one on each side, taking hold of her arms as she protested. "Princess, you should not be down here alone."

"And why shouldn't I be? This is my choice—tell father I'm absolutely disgusted by how he's treating Wizard Howl. He's my husband-to-be… so let him go at once!"

"We're sorry, Princess. Madame Suliman's orders just as much as the King's. We will be escorting you to your room now."

"No! Let me go… let me—! _Howl!_ Howl, look at me! Stop them with your magic, Howl!"

Howl lowered his head, and refused to meet her eyes. The shuffling and sounds of protest died away as Valeria was lifted by each arm and led away up the staircase to her rooms.

His magic… his means of escape… his plans of freedom after he'd finally gained a heart…

His heart.

It thumped feebly now; its activity in his chest was only a dull reminder of the numbness of the rest of his body.

* * *

**_I'm sorry, but it seems you'll have to wait another day. This will be the last. I swear, Sophie Hatter._**

_**H.J.**_

Sophie read the note again. And again.

Her vision swam. She'd found it on her doorstep in the morning when she opened the store. It was buried under a pile of malicious calling cards the local women had written to her about propriety (and her lack thereof). There was no doubt in her mind who had written this particular card to her. Although he'd never signed his notes before, the paper and messy, pompously curled handwriting were familiar reminders of the last few months.

She blinked as her left eye began to sting. A droplet of water coursed down her cheek before she slapped a hand to it and told herself to stop. Enough was enough.

Today _was_ her last day of waiting.

All her life, she had believed in the folklore she'd learned in grammar school—clung to the tradition of failure every firstborn of three inherited.

But what was the point? If she waited too long, wouldn't she just end up a failure anyhow? Her rational side and emotional side coincided for once. She wanted her future to be more than this—more than the hat shop. More than the neighbors and gossip that told her every minute what she could and couldn't do, judged her with self-righteous prudence.

It didn't matter if Howl was willing to explain himself more or not—didn't matter if he wanted to see her or not—didn't matter if (did she dare think it) he (loved) liked her or not.

She was through waiting for him. The sun shone in the sky. It would take a full day's carriage ride to get to the capital. There was no doubt in her mind that was where Howl was located. And if she was going to that outrageous Royal Ball for the Princess Valeria anyhow, it certainly wouldn't hurt to arrive a few days early.

Sophie stared at the passerby to her shop. Some turned and looked at her, inquisitively or disapprovingly.

There would be no business today. Or tomorrow, probably.

Howl had swept through her life more than just romantically. She swallowed the bitter feeling in her mouth, and walked over to some of the best bonnets in the store to dress up a bit for her meeting with the King.

Wait one more day… that was fine with her. She was determined to see him by nightfall.

* * *

**Thirsty**

But it was getting better. He could feel the calmer portions of his mind and direct his thoughts now, however tortured they might be.

He probed the limits of his capacity, searching. There was no magic left. He couldn't even stir the air to blow at the candles, a power he'd had innately and practiced as a mere child.

**Thirsty**

But there was still a link left. If he couldn't summon magic up on his own, magic could still call to him. He was still attuned to it. Years of wanting power had molded his soul. Years of practicing spells had heightened his knowledge and senses.

He could still get it back.

By himself.

But lose himself in the process.

Again.

"_Calcifer…_"

The link was still there.

You didn't have to have talent to practice dark magic.

The thirst scorched all other more mediocre, safer options. His heart seemed muffled now, so far away, useless anyhow. If he could once again find a use for it, and regain some magic in the process…

**I'm calling**

Howl's voice seemed to echo in the cold dungeon, ricocheting off stone walls until it magnified threefold .

**You're out there, aren't you**

**Come, let's strike a**

"Calcifer…"

**Bargain**

* * *

End Prelude…………………………………………………

**Suzu: Aaaaah! Howl's about to… you know. Who saw that coming?**

**Just to note to all rabid fans, Howl's appearance doesn't really change after his powers have been stripped away. This is because, referencing the book and some of the movie… the way he fixes his hair and skin (and I'm assuming other features) is mainly with dyes, lotions, and potion-like concoctions. Since most of these are definitely non-magical, they have nothing to do with his working magical power.**

**Sorry about any mistakes you may find. This is unbetaed for now b/c I'm in a rush before I leave the country this weekend. I really wanted to get this up beforehand so I could work on the rest of it while I'm away on vacation, haha. **

**Cheers to summer guys! This means more frequent updates? : ) Though… is anyone still reading this?**

**Comments? **

**Critique? **

**Bombard the authoress with you superior judgment, ne?**

**Thank you for reading, faving, and putting it on alerts! As always, **

**Ja ne!**

**-Suzu**


	6. Night Four: Panic

**Disclaimer: I don't own HMC or any of the characters of Miyazaki and Diana Wynne Jones' original creation. I'm only responsible for putting them in harmless plot twists.**

**Suzu: Here we are, onto the official Night 4, which means this story is more than half over. Hmmm… depending on how you look at it, that may or may not be a good thing.**

**My apologies that I'm half-conscious while posting this. I just had to get it up posthaste again, since I felt so bad about not updating in a long while. My schedule is terrible again for who knows how long. Maybe in time, I will be able to get a better, betaed version out. I sincerely hope so. **

**Thanks so much to everyone who stuck it out with me to this point! I wish I could give a great big hug to each one of you! Maybe a shoutout will do, maybe, I guess … hmm, there's an idea for the future.**

……………………………

**Seven Nights-**

**Night 4**

**--In Which Howl Panics Prettily--**

……………………………

"_I'm terrified of these four walls, 'cause iron bars can't hold my soul in…"_

_-Savin' Me_

_-Nickelback_

……………………………………

Prelude to Night Four, Reprise:

--Sophie:

I'm sorry, but it seems you'll have to wait another day. This will be the last. I swear, Sophie Hatter.

**H.J.**

_Sophie read the note again. And again. _

_Her vision swam. She'd found it on her doorstep in the morning when she opened the store. It was buried under a pile of malicious calling cards the local women had written to her about propriety (and her lack thereof). There was no doubt in her mind who had written this particular card to her. Although he'd never signed his notes before, the paper and messy, pompously curled handwriting were familiar reminders of the last few months. _

_She blinked as her left eye began to sting. A droplet of water coursed down her cheek before she slapped a hand to it and told herself to stop. Enough was enough. _

_Today _was_ her last day of waiting._

--Howl:

"_Calcifer…" _

_The link was still there. _

_You didn't have to have talent to practice dark magic. _

_The thirst scorched all other more mediocre, safer options. His heart seemed muffled now, so far away, useless anyhow. If he could once again find a use for it, and regain some magic in the process…_

_I'm calling_

_Howl's voice seemed to echo in the cold dungeon, ricocheting off stone walls until it magnified threefold . _

_**You're out there, aren't you**_

_**Come let's strike a**_

"_Calcifer…"_

_Bargain_

* * *

The walls of the castle gleamed brightly with the last rays of the sun. It was a violet sunset, tinged with hues of red and orange and pink. The vast stone courtyard sprawled before her, as the Kingsbury natives milled about, hurrying off to a late dinner or to evening parties. Their colored, patterned dress seemed as if it were Market Chipping's May Day, and Sophie felt vaguely like the mouse many months ago, clutching a gray shawl to her shoulders as she scrambled out of frivolity's way.

The main gold and iron gates were behind her now. They loomed threateningly, all pomp and majesty in a town she barely recognized since her stepmother's wedding ceremony had taken place.

Sophie'd paid half a month's earnings for a simple trolley ride through the royal city after traveling by train to the Kingsbury station, and had walked the rest of the way to the king's castle. Luckily, she had made it by sunset, and the last of the king's attendants would hopefully be there to receive her.

Reaching the foot of the long, imposing staircase up to the castle's grand front doors, Sophie steeled herself before starting to climb. After a day of work, and then nonstop travel, each step she took seemed to transform the next step into the equivalent of raising a block of lead. She muttered a 'Thank God it isn't midday' but the sweltering temperature of the crowds and engine heat made Kingsbury nights warmer than those in Market Chipping by far. It also didn't help that there were none of cool mountain breezes that would flood through Sophie's native town every night.

And Howl… would he really be here? Would he welcome her, even after she'd disobeyed his note?

Sophie clamped down on the niggling doubts that fought to dominate her thoughts. Instead, she focused on climbing stairs, the burning strain in her calves and hamstrings mirroring the ache in her lungs with every breath she took as she neared the top.

'_Whew… that wasn't so bad, Sophie. Imagine doing that when you're ninety,_' she thought as she trudged up the last step.

The view from the top of the stairs was breathtaking, if nothing else. The courtyard and spacious stone streets stretched outwards until bordered by stately multi-colored brick houses with elaborate porch filigree. Bright colored residential areas overlooked ponds and statues. And the people—they were everywhere, milling about, crowding in groups of single digits and lover's couplets as they laughed and told jokes.

One of the doormen in livery came towards Sophie and executed a curt but startlingly feminine bow. "How do you do, Miss."

Sophie nodded in response to his high-pitched voice. She tried best she could to avoid staring at the profusion of white, starched ruffles billowing from his neckline. And the oily little curl of moustache that grew from his nostrils.

"I'm looking for someone at the castle, and I thought that m-maybe the King would help," Sophie stammered.

The doorman seemed to size her up, a young woman in a gray dress, and a highly unfashionable one at that. Her clothes, her hairstyle, and not to mention the little straw bonnet all seemed to scream 'countryside' at him. Pity, as she had a good figure and large, if somewhat frightened-looking, eyes.

"No, I'm afraid His Majesty is done for the day and will not see anyone. People here are always busy, you know. You can try coming back tomorrow and waiting in line at these steps here, with the other travelers from the little towns in Ingary."

Distressed, Sophie resisted the urge to wring her hands. She couldn't afford to wait another day. Howl could be in trouble. And she still didn't know if he really was here after all.

"Please, sir… if I could just ask the people in the castle to look for him with me…"

"Aha!" the doorman snatched the chance. "Just another boy, eh? A duke's son, perhaps? Eager for a romp in the fields with some miller's daughter before returning to court?" he smiled none too sweetly.

Sophie's voice wobbled. "N-no! It's not that at all! I just want to look for this person myself! If I could just—"

"Now just what is going on here? An argument? And with this young lady?" a deep voice interrupted.

Sophie looked up to see a tall man dressed in guardsmen clothes standing behind her. He seemed to be torn from looking curiously at her and glaring at the doorman.

"No, we were just ending this conversation, thank you," snapped the doorman, before doing his mock-bow again and leaving in a huff.

Sophie swallowed the bile that rose to her throat. She was angry, embarrassed, repulsed by that person's treatment of her. And yet… his words had mirrored those of the people in Market Chipping…no, his words had been nothing compared to the cold silence and insults hurled at her from people she had known growing up.

"…Say, you're not hurt, are you?" The kindly guard was looking at her in earnest now. "Those guys can be pretty hard to deal with, if they don't like you at first glance. Trust me, I know."

"Thank you," murmured Sophie.

"Nah, no need. I've lived in the city all my life, but that doesn't mean I think we're better than everyone else. Hey… you look awfully familiar. Have I seen you somewhere before?"

Sophie looked at the guard. He was tall, with a strong jaw line and locks of brown hair underneath the helmet. It was hard to place it exactly, because she'd seen so many similar features in others.

Sophie shook her head.

"Really, now? Were you at Mr. Smith's wedding to that nice widow from Market Chipping? I thought that you really resembled one of the bridesmaids," the guard explained. He leaned close, as if to check the similarities again.

"A-ah. Yes, I'm Honey's oldest stepdaughter. I was there at the wedding, as you said."

The guard's face broke out into a smile. Sophie noted his shining white teeth, and the tiny dimples on each side of his face.

"I remember now! You were the one who wore that pale green dress! I didn't believe it until now because that reddish-blonde girl at the ceremony…whew, she… you were absolutely _stunning_, even if your dress was plainer than the other bridesmaids'. Me and some of my friends were there, you know, and you had quite a lot of admirers."

Roland grinned widely from ear to ear with good humor. "But then you ran away from one of my good friends when he tried to escort you after the ceremony! Poor chap, hahaha! We didn't see you after that."

Sophie cringed inwardly, thinking that this nice guard was accusing her. But he still had on his bright grin, and was laughing warmly as if relishing the memory of his comrade's mishap. Sophie was so relieved at this that she didn't even think to feel slightly insulted that he'd called her past self 'stunning', and then stated his initial disbelief that the present her was the same girl.

"Oh! Forgive me for not introducing myself. I am Roland of the Haverfields, a distant relation to the Smith family. I work at the castle, though I usually man the gates further from here."

"…And my name is Sophie Hatter. I run my late father's shop in Market Chipping."

Roland beamed at her. "Good gracious. A young girl like you running a store on your own! You must have quite a mind for hats and business, Ms. Sophie."

"N-no, no," Sophie smiled nervously back. "I had a lot of help. In fact, that's the reason I'm in Kingsbury right now. I'm searching for that person who had worked at the shop a few months back."

Roland seemed to perk up at hearing what sounded a lot like a quest of sorts. "Alright, Ms. Sophie," he proclaimed. "Since we are, now, in a manner of speaking, family, I will be more than happy to aid you in finding whoever it is you are looking for! Just tell me a name and I will run it through the castle ranks to find where he or she is! Never underestimate the soldiers' gossip network."

"Th-thank you… so, so much," stammered Sophie, feeling intense release as if from pressure and helplessness. Her knees felt infinitely shakier, but her heart soared at Mr. Roland Haverfield's words.

"So, what does this person look like? Maybe you have a name that I could run through with some people I know inside court?"

"Oh…I, well… his name… I'm afraid I couldn't tell you, Mr. Roland," Sophie sighed in the end, miserable she couldn't disclose Howl's true identity for fear of recognition.

"Now, now… Mr. Roland? I'm barely older than you are, I'll bet! Just turned twenty and one last month!" he admonished her with a lopsided smirk.

"I'm sorry…" Sophie deflated again. Really, could this whole day have been worse?

"And as for your man, well… I would try to find him for you on features and looks alone, but that would be hard. I mean, considering all the new people who have been milling to the castle recently. There's so many traveling from in and out of the country—odd people, too. I would say most are coming to the Royal Ball that's taking place soon, but I'd bet a share of them are here to see, well, _**him**_, you know."

Roland trailed off meaningfully, and rubbed the soft stubble at his chin. "You wouldn't think it, but I bet even that Madame Suliman is trying to keep a lookout for any more witches or wizards that come looking for that guy. Wouldn't want the Witch of the Waste coming… Good thing the dungeons have a magical layer protecting any wild magic from leaking out."

A cold sweat seemed to break out starting from Sophie's now trembling hands. She resisted the urge to ball her hands into fists and demand where this character Roland was describing was… as well as who he was.

She had a pretty good guess to that already.

"By any chance, are y-you talking about… the W-Wizard Howl?" Her voice was barely audible.

Roland caught it, though. "Ah, yes. That's what Market Chipping folks call him, right? Apparently, this fellow's got a reputation in several towns in Ingary, and even in Strangia and beyond! Here in Kingsbury, he's apparently kept the alias Pendragon for several years."

Howl… Pendragon… and many more aliases to be revealed now that they had hit the tip of the iceberg.

Sophie swallowed heavily, her throat dry.

Inside, her mind whirred, digesting the information and forming a plan to get inside, to see Howl, to save him from the dungeons… whatever, however… anything.

"Mr., I mean, Roland… is there a way to get inside the castle?"

"Huh?" Roland looked down at Sophie's carefully blank face, sensing something was off, although he couldn't quite place it.

"Sophie, it might be hard if you want to go search yourself… the castle is a pretty big place and—" Roland started to protest.

Sophie cut him off with what she hoped was a sweet smile. The same kind her little sister Lettie would flash to charm all the neighbors and the same kind her littlest sister Martha would flash to force their shop babysitter to go out and buy more candy and pastries.

She never thought she would stoop to this.

For Howl, she reminded herself fiercely.

Roland's cheeks flushed as he found himself smiling back unconsciously, a silly, slightly dazed grin. And for the first time, he noted briefly that, indeed, this Sophie Hatter was twenty times prettier standing in front of him, and not far away on the elevated church steps of the wedding.

"I just need to get inside… it wouldn't take more than a little while since I remember what he looked like. And I could describe him to other people," Sophie said smoothly, looking up at the taller guardsman with impossibly large eyes framed by long lashes and pale smooth skin.

"I-I guess so. I certainly don't see the problem, since the other men are always bringing lasses to the kitchens and stealing a bite to eat… I mean, especially since you may not have had dinner yet, Ms. Sophie…"

Sophie's answering smile was radiant and genuine. It nearly bowled the poor guardsman over.

To the dungeons, then, thought Sophie. After she managed to evade Roland in the kitchens first.

* * *

"…"

The lights from the candles in the dungeon dimmed, flickering uneasily as if by the pull of a force. Then, they brightened and burned as usual again.

"… Blast…"

Howl cursed again, for what felt like an eternity of concentrating his magic. After the initial pull, the _feeling_ that he could establish contact with the fire demon, the link felt distant again. Hazy and faraway.

His concentration wavered as a bead of sweat dropped onto the cold stone floors below. In a normal situation, in a normal state of affairs, Howl most certainly would have stopped in the middle of whatever endeavor it was that had made his body feel even the slightest compulsion to perspire from a mix of fear and anxiety and sheer _fatigue_.

This was not a normal happenstance.

He tried again, nerves tingling.

Not good enough.

"_Calcifer…"_

Nothing.

Still nothing, damn it.

He had stooped to the level of a hack wizard now. Howl knew the truth, in the distant corner of his impossibly hollow-feeling head. His kneeling here on the dirty cell's unpolished, unpaved floor meant only one thing.

He wasn't good enough. Like his aliases, like his charm with women, his magic… now that Suliman had picked every last bone with him that was left to pick, what else could he turn to, who else could he blame…but himself?

Next, that witch would target his painstakingly immaculate appearance for sure. Or, thought Howl as he grimaced at the dampness on his forehead, she already had.

He hated her regime and schooling with a passion now, as much passion as he could muster in his half-delirious state. He despised this lack of energy that drained him to his bone marrow and seemed to leave him worthless.

Howl clenched his fists—hard. The pain of his nails digging into his palms, and the bits of rock and pebble that pressed into his grounded fists, seemed to clear the haze a little.

The prison had anti-magic and communication wards. Only Suliman would have been able to put up such a strong barrier around the castle. Only Suliman would have thought to do such a thing, after the woman had seen so many bright wizards of her day descend into madness by forming tainted contracts. Madame Suliman had gotten something right, if this stopped any more Witches of the Waste from cropping up.

Any more Howl Jenkins from becoming Horrible Howl.

There was no Calcifer.

No contract.

Only footsteps, Howl registered dispassionately.

He sunk to the floor again, indifferent to the extra smears of grime on his pants, as he turned his head so as to not meet the eye of the new visitor.

And for half a second, Howl allowed himself to entertain the thought that it was Sophie—lovely, timid, brave, responsible, and horrifyingly practical Sophie.

He turned around.

It was Valeria.

* * *

The crystal swirled under her touch, restless as it flickered between images.

Suliman collected her thoughts. Reflected on the state of her new botanical collection of Strangian semi-evergreens.

The images in the crystal settled.

Suliman allowed herself one small sigh.

There was a girl in the crystal. A young woman. Wandering around the castle halls.

But of course there was. Never mind the question of how on earth she had managed to get in. Idly, Suliman mused that it was always this way in fairytales, love stories, epics. Why not real life?

Suliman allowed herself one small smile.

This young damsel in distress was wearing a grey dress that only succeeded in highlighting the reddish-gold hair. Ginger, set on a pale complexion with large, apprehensive grayish-blue eyes.

She would not be without proper drama appropriate for such show of bravery. As if sneaking into the main castle wasn't enough… why, it wouldn't be a bad idea to sneak this one into the dungeons while Suliman as feeling benevolent.

The Royal Witch shifted her thoughts, focused, and Valeria's face came to her in her mind's eye and in the crystal at the same time.

Suliman wouldn't have pegged Howl to be such a charmer even after he'd had all his magic forcefully stripped away. In fact, most wizards and witches collapsed into cases of hysteria or semi-comatose behavior by now.

Maybe it was just the princess. Suliman peered more closely at the girl's besotted expression. The older woman smiled and the corners of her lips lifted as her eyes narrowed in an icy sort of mirth.

Time to see how besotted Valeria could be, maybe even to the point of entertaining a new rival on the scene.

"Go take our dear mousy visitor here to the dungeons, will you? I'm sure she wants to see the dear wizard that all those other recent tasteless travelers can't wait to ogle at." Suliman smiled at the image of the frightened eyes in the crystal ball.

"Oh, and steward. While you're at it, would you get me a cup of Earl Grey from the kitchens?"

* * *

"Down this way, my lady," the young steward had said. There was no way not to interpret those words with suspicion.

Sophie knew, of course, better than to trust strangers. Even strangers employed at an impossibly large castle belonging to the king of the country. Courtiers these days were apparently as notorious as their worse bred, less blue-blooded counterparts in garters and lace strapping.

But he'd taken her to a stairwell. And Sophie had enough common sense to note that a set of stairs leading downwards had a good chance of connecting to the royal dungeons. So she had shivered, pursed her lips, and walked down the steps as unobtrusively as she could.

The stairs were steep, and the floor damp. The natural darkness of the underground passage made the hairs on the back of Sophie's neck stand on end. Only the thin illumination of candles prevented her from pitching head first into the inky dark below. Soon enough, however, the stairs leveled and Sophie found herself in a circular landing connecting to a more spacious passageway lined with cells. The numerous candles on the walls cast the dungeon stones in orange light, making the edges of the dungeon look strangely greenish.

She wasn't alone.

The scene that greeted her was anything but the one she had imagined in a place as dank and musty as this.

Strangely, it was her sister Lettie's words that drifted through her head at that moment. Right before Lettie had been courted by her eleventh beau and right after their stepmother had told her to just get married to the tenth one already, for heaven's sake.

'_Men like the chase, Sophie. Why should I be married like Honey tells me to, when all guys look for is quantity of girls, not quality in them?'_

Seeing this unfamiliar girl lean in to kiss Howl on the lips was almost like watching a replay of herself and Howl the night before everything had gone horribly wrong. Only the roles were reversed, and it was all wrong. Sophie, repulsed but unable to turn away, watched in mute horror as Howl turned his face at the last moment and Valeria missed his mouth by a painfully small distance. As Howl turned his head, his gaze met hers.

Hers. Sophie's.

Sophie by the doorway.

There's shock and countless other emotions Sophie doesn't have the strength or will to name, which flash across Howl's face before his eyes seem to become glassy. Howl stepped away from the bars of the prison cell in one quick, rushed motion—nothing like the graceful, fluid movements of before.

"Who are you?" the young woman asked coolly, now turned towards Sophie as well, but her eyes flashed with something akin to annoyance as she glanced over at the newcomer.

Sophie refused to look at Howl. She wouldn't. She couldn't look at him, couldn't stand the look of bewilderment and shock she'd seen on his face when he first saw her at the foot of the stairs. It felt as if her chest was crumbling in on itself. There was no hole—just a tight scrunching in at the position of her heart, as if something were squeezing it in order to suffocate. It is irrational, though. This kind of behavior. She didn't come here to go home without settling a few things first.

'_You were right about him…'_ a soft voice seemed to nudge her from within her mind.

'_He's nothing but a vain flirt, and you'd be just another sorry victim.' _

Sophie took a deep breath of the musty dungeon air, before locking her gaze steadily on the brunette.

"Sophie Hatter," she said, slowly and clearly.

"Oh. Pleasure to meet you," the young woman said politely. "And I am…" Her gleaming eyes narrowed as she contemplated for a split second. "Valeria. Just call me Valeria. I am Wizard Howl's fiancée."

Sophie swallowed. Her throat had gotten quite dry.

'_See?'_

Sophie refused to look at Howl. Refused to be swayed by anything at this moment. She drew another deep breath, before answering.

"No, you are not. Howl is already… engaged."

Valeria showed no sign of surprise or agitation. "Oh? To whom?"

"To me," Sophie said without hesitation.

And suddenly, the great pain in Sophie's chest lessened. It was only a dull burn now, spurring her on.

Valeria didn't seem to be taken aback by this either. She stood there, smiling slightly, her brunette tresses glistening on her sloping shoulders. Obviously, this beautiful woman was a great statesman. In that, Sophie admired her. In addition, Sophie was surprised by her own courage, as she declared such things even Howl himself hadn't said openly.

"That isn't for you to decide, dear Ms. Hatter," Valeria intoned, as if she were talking to a confused child. "Howl cannot be affianced without his own knowledge."

"Oh, he knows," Sophie stated earnestly. And, more bitterly, carefully avoiding looking at Howl, she added. "Ask him."

Valeria shook her head. "No, no. I'm afraid my darling is in great pain and confusion at the moment. He's just been through something traumatic, you see, and I'm the only one who can help him now."

Sophie's mind whirled. Something traumatic? By all means, being locked in a jail cell with his clothes ruined and no hot bath ready must already be enough of a trauma for Howl… but what was this woman saying… that she was the only one to help him now?

Instead, Sophie said firmly, "Whether or not Howl is your fiancé is not for you to decide either, Valeria."

"There has been no objections from either side. And as far as this nation is concerned, my father already endorses it."

"That's a proud statement to make, Valeria." Sophie continued quickly, "I don't know who your father is, and right now, it doesn't matter to me."

Valeria seemed to smile, almost pityingly.

"Oh, you know my father, Ms. Hatter. Everyone in the country and out of it knows my father. He's the King of Ingary, after all."

Sophie's knees felt a lot weaker, all of the sudden.

Valeria…

Valeria. Of course! Why didn't she make the connection earlier? Because this Valeria seemed far too bold, too independent, too smart to be like the docile and stately princess Sophie had always imagined her to be? Because she thought the only child of the monarch of the nation couldn't possibly be free-willed under such a burden?

"Princess Valeria… you're…" Sophie murmured.

"The sole princess of Ingary, yes. That is, assuming Prince Justin, my uncle, doesn't marry anytime soon. Trust me, he won't.

"So, since the most powerful people in the nation are backing this marriage, I do hope you'll step down, Ms. Hatter. You see, it's for the good of Ingary. Howl is a powerful wizard who will no doubt bring powerful resources to our land. Won't you, Darling?"

"…Leave."

Sophie was startled, and seemed to wake, as if from a dream. Valeria, too, jumped a little.

"I said 'leave'."

"Howl, I—" Valeria started.

"Don't…" Howl's voice sounded hoarse, as if he had caught a terrible cold. But even so, it still carried that charisma, that authority.

Princess Valeria narrowed her eyes and turned to Sophie.

"He's telling you to leave now," Valeria said firmly.

"That's not it."

"Howl, what are you saying?"

"Valeria, leave… please." There was finality in that tone.

Sophie almost wanted to comfort Valeria, almost wanted to hold out her arm to the girl, as she left with a stricken look on her beautiful face. But as she passed, the Princess glanced at Sophie with a look that betrayed intense dislike.

After Valeria's footsteps had faded up the stairs and grown silent with distance, Sophie let out a deep breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.

A mellow, ringing laugh greeted her from the bars of the dungeon cell.

Surprised, Sophie turned to the man on the other side of the bars.

Howl was chuckling softly, and grinning like mad from within the cell. He had stood up, and was clutching at the bars as if to keep himself from doubling over.

"What's so funny?" Sophie snapped.

"You," Howl said between the laughter. "It's just that… the little gray mouse I know would have left sobbing the moment she saw Valeria and I… well, you know."

"Fraternizing, you mean. Hmph! Alright. Fine then, I'm leaving."

Sophie picked up her skirts to go.

"W-wait! You know I didn't mean it!" Howl's voice rang out.

Sophie continued walking. She was at the foot of the dungeon stairs when Howl cried out, alarmed.

"Sophie, wait!"

There was fear in his voice. Sophie recognized that fear. It was the same as when she'd softly spoken Howl's name every time he left her waiting, everyday for the months he'd suddenly left. It was so genuine that she turned around, tasting salt on her lips as tears she couldn't hold in anymore dribbled down her cheeks.

The look in Howl's eyes seemed to isolate her in their own space. Mesmerized, Sophie could only stare at him. At the grime on Howl's unblemished skin, at the way his fair hair was plastered to his forehead from sweat and dirt. At the tatters of his ridiculously fashionable sleeves.

"Don't cry, Sophie… I don't plan on marrying Valeria…" Howl murmured softly, awkwardly.

Sophie wiped at her eyes with her hands. "I'm not crying because of that. I'm crying because I'm in love with a vain, fickle, irresponsible, egotistical peacock of a man!" she shouted at him, weeping profusely now.

"Ouch," said Howl. "I feel sorry for myself. Why in the world did you fall for someone _like that_ while I was gone?"

He looked at her from across the bars, something akin to a puppy dog's look on his face. Sophie had half a mind to snort through her tears. It was still crocodile tears from Howl. An adorable half-pout that lifted her frown.

Sophie shook her head, smiling softly at Howl. "I don't know. You should ask yourself that, since it's all your fault."

"My fault?" he mused, before seeming to realize. "Huh… Oh, now wait a second, Sophie, I am most certainly_ not_ egotisti—"

He was stopped by the gentle pressure of a soft finger to his lips.

There was no magic. Howl could testify to that, because his rational mind felt no surge in power, no sudden ebb in the strength of the magical disarmaments drawn into the stones of the jail. But then again, even the most powerful magic could only slow time for mere seconds, and only through thorough, lengthy preparation, which in itself wasted exponentially more than the time that would later be 'gained' back.

But time slowed then. Just maybe.

Howl didn't think of himself as a romantic at heart. Heck, he hadn't had a heart in a long, long time until he'd regained it mere months ago.

Time slowed as Howl stared at the girl across the bars, at her ginger-colored hair, the flush on her milky skin, and the soft droop of her rosy mouth. She was a beauty, and she didn't even know it. Sophie's face was inches from his, and her large lucid eyes watered from unexpressed grief or worry.

"The villagers all think I'm a good-for-nothing flirt…they threaten to sell me to a brothel. The worst calling cards that come declare that I'm pregnant with a child spawned from dark magic—the shame of my family, the village…"

Howl's heart seemed to thud in his ears, loud and insistent as a boiling pressure developed in his chest. Was this anger? Was he angry for someone other than himself? This probably meant, then, that Sophie was indeed the girl for him. Only she seemed to make his heart pound in such a way, however excruciating the experience was from time to time. And Sophie… what had she gone through while he was gone? What had people done to her because of him?

**Useless**

His mind snapped out of its reverie at the sudden contact to his lips. Sophie had kissed him out of desperation or impulse. That quick but lingering moment of contact seemed to evaporate most of Howl's thoughts. She drew back, to Howl's regret, but settled a small hand on a bar of the jail cage. Her mouth was clenched, and tears poured out of her eyes.

"But I don't care, though. I don't care, Howl—b-because I won't leave just because they spite me. Other people don't matter anymore. I won't let you off, anymore, so don't you go running off and…and… r-running off and…"

**Powerless to take care of her**

Sophie couldn't continue, and trailed off in quiet sobs. Howl watched as his little mouse seemed to crumple and pour out her troubles in front of him. He knelt on the other side of the cage, and… for the first time ever, regretted his loss of magic due to a selfless reason… because of his inability to help her… to save her in times like these. More than ever, Howl was determined to get his magic back.

**Just**

"Sophie," he started softly. "Sophie, listen. I… I can't leave this place."

She sniffed softly, and looked up from her crouched position, confusion and doubt written on her face.

"…Why?"

"There's powerful magic surrounding this cell, and I can't break out of it."

Better half the truth than the whole truth.

**Not good enough**

"We'll just have to ask the King to let you go, then! There's no reason they have to keep you locked up in here! You've done nothing wrong…"

Typical, innocent Sophie. In a way, her naiveté was something Howl loved about her.

"It's not that simple. I need magic, strong offensive magic, to leave this place. The way I am now, there is no way I can escape," Howl said, careful to not tread into deep waters.

"But your magic…you mean it's not enough? Then, Howl, how can you get more?" Sophie asked urgently.

"Clever girl. Indeed, there is a way to get more." Howl smiled. "But I can't go get it myself. You'll have to go in my place."

Sophie's gaze didn't waver for a second. "Where? Tell me, Howl. We need to get you out of here as soon as possible."

"It'll be dangerous."

"That doesn't matter."

"You might not agree to it."

"Stop slithering out of the question."

Howl sighed. Instead, a mesh of relief and guilt and fear were tugging at him, swirling along the empty chasm where his magic had once been inside of him.

"There's a way to get more magic at my castle."

Sophie's eyes widened. No doubt she was remembering all the lore and rumors near her hometown about Horrible Howl and how he would take girls hearts and eat them. All inside his horrible clanking, moving castle.

"…I'll do it."

Howl breathed a sigh of relief again. But the sense of guilt shot up immediately as well. His control was slipping, though. The exhaustion from overcoming the great fatigue and cloudiness that came from losing his magic was creeping back and latching onto his very soul.

"You can't get there on your own… not unless you've entered the castle once before," he explained.

"But I've never once been to your castl—" Sophie started to protest.

Howl silenced her with a penetrating look, which seemed to smolder before his irises filmed over and became quite like glassy marbles again.

"You'll see a summoning charm for a fire demon named Calcifer. This ring will bring you to my castle so you can find him. "

Howl unclipped a chain from his neck with trembling hands. A simple silver ring with a blue gemstone on it dropped from the unfastened chain and into Howl's trembling hand. He held it up, and the stone seemed to glow in the dark before emitting a thin red beam of light that pointed towards and past a grim dungeon wall.

"Follow this light, and bring Calcifer here. Tell him I promise… to give him my heart again."

………………………………………………………………… End Night 4

"_and I've always dreamed_

_that love would be effortless_

_like a petal falling to the ground…_

_where is your heart_

_cause I don't really feel you_

_where is your heart_

_what I really want is to believe you"_

_-Where is your heart_

_-Kelly Clarkson_

* * *

**Suzu: Ahhh! How will Sophie react on hearing this? Will she carry it out? If so, how will the meeting between girl and heart-eating fire demon go? And Valeria—will she let this go? What about Suliman and the Market Chipping gossips? Will Lissy's plan to drag Sophie to the ball really work? **STAY TUNED**… (lol, I have always wanted to imitate the end of a DBZ episode). **

**Oh, Sophie. I truly respect all those characters who go on performing great feats of courage without looking back, who change their personalities in an instant and become perfect beings that stick up for themselves and others… but hey, I'm one of those people who believes that true change comes very slowly.**

**And Sophie is changing. Her assertiveness against Valeria marked that change. So… to all the readers who ask: "why does she break down in tears afterwards? So OOC!" Well… I guess you could say she's still fragile Sophie underneath. She couldn't truly be in character unless she has moments where her old self shines through. Besides, conveying your feelings to someone is also a form of courage, right?**

**Comments and Critique would be much appreciated, as always! Thank you to all readers!**

**Btw, did anyone go see Ponyo in theatres? And think that drag queen Ponyo-daddy was the funniest thing you've ever seen? Ever. ;)**

**Ja ne, **

**Suzu**


	7. Night Five: Parting

**Disclaimer: I don't own HMC or any of the characters of Miyazaki and Diana Wynne Jones' original creation. I'm only responsible for putting them in angst-y plot twists.**

**Suzu: I haven't written anything in what feels like decades. At least, not anything in English besides philosophy essays… which remind me more of math formulas and logic syllogisms than anything else. Halp… **

**Night 5… not a lot of Howl/Sophie contact in this chapter, but hey, you've all been through that before, right? Also, you'll need to read this carefully to truly appreciate Night 6. And believe me, this is the beginning of a delicious drama/angst trip. **

**Also, thanks to all who responded in the last year! There's only a bit left now (sob?) and it's already been all planned out for ages. I hope you all enjoy—I'll do my best to make it a fanfic worth reading and waiting for! **

Warning: long chapter, but important.

…

**Seven Nights-**

**Night 5**

**-In Which Sophie Parts with More Things Than One-**

…

"_And you can't fight the tears that ain't comin'_

_Oh the moment of truth in your ljfe_

_And sooner or later it's over_

_I just don't wanna miss you tonight…"_

_-Iris_

_-Goo Goo Dolls_

…

* * *

"_You'll see a summoning charm for a fire demon named Calcifer. This ring will bring you to my castle so you can find him. "_

Howl had unclipped the ring's chain from his neck. A simple, silver ring with a blue gemstone on it. When he had held it up, the stone had seemed to glow in the dark before emitting a thin red beam of light that pointed towards and past a grim dungeon wall.

"_Follow this light, and bring Calcifer here. Tell him I promise… to give him my heart again." _

Howl grimaced in the darkness of the cell, reminiscing about his words to Sophie. He did not know if it was night or day any longer—his senses were so blurred. Normally, a wizard with magic of his caliber tuned himself with the surroundings until he could draw on the very alignment of the planets and the rotation of the earth to enhance his spells. That connection was gone now.

It was probably daytime, Howl reasoned deliriously, as he eyed his dirtied nails with distaste.

Valeria was relatively busy in the day, preparing for some ballroom dance or another about which she would blather on dreamily nonstop. She hadn't been here for quite some time. But then again, nothing was quite what it seemed for the last few hours of Howl's non-magical life. He'd been reduced to a pathetic prisoner, a man with no talents except to pronounce garbled sounding words that were no longer Words of Power when uttered by his tongue.

A handicap. That's what he was. And a fairly un-pretty one at that (by now. Howl stole another rueful look at his sleeves).

Blast, he'd even taken to measuring time by Valeria's regularly spaced visits.

Why, next, he would be—

Howl winced as a spasm of pain shot through his body. All thoughts in his head dispersed.

Breathing raggedly, Howl scrambled to collect his train of thought. He recited the list of steps necessary to dye his hair his preferred shade of sunshine blonde. Not buttercup blonde, not wheat blonde—_sunshine_ blonde. This seemed to calm the loud, quick drumming of his heart, which jumped almost to his throat every time in shock. How many pangs had it been since he'd last seen Sophie? Seven. Howl had been keeping count.

Seven ripping spasms of pain, a ghastly twinge of his nerves right across his chest that lacerated his heart in one quick sweep before the sensation fluttered out his body again.

His breathing returned to normal, even if Howl had already determined that his voice was still raspy and he needed throat lozenges for heaven's sake, and did anyone in this castle care about his basic human welfare at _all_?

Apparently not.

After so and so hours, he was still in here. Howl thought of Suliman, of her shocked and severe frown when she found out he found a means of escape. That is, when he escaped. Which he most certainly would.

Right?

'Bring Calcifer here…'

That had been the gist of his instructions to Sophie before she had been sent on her way. Howl frowned lightly as he remembered, albeit hazily, the tearful yet determined look that had been on Sophie's face as she left him.

'_You've been to the castle before, Sophie. But still, that may not be enough… for Calcifer to decide to not swallow you whole.' _

…..

The lights of Kingsbury were far behind her now. As Sophie tugged at the rusty lever of the small aero-plane she'd procured from the castle, she caught site of the looming mountains in the horizon, dark and foreboding under heavy, thick black clouds. The stars were obscured that night, and even the cheerful lights of Market Chipping looked as if they were huddling for warmth in the cold night air.

The ring Howl had given her glowed straight ahead, faithful to its purpose. Sophie had been following its path of light for almost a day now, judging by the way the night had set in again. What was easier about flying in the dark, though, was avoiding the looks of the passerby below. She could fly at lower altitudes and avoid the sharper winds than when it was daytime.

She chewed her lower lip as she tugged the old blanket she'd found in the Royal Ingarian storage closer.

Howl… how was Howl… was he cold? And why did he send her to his castle? Why did he keep it a secret that she had been to his castle before?

Sophie inhaled a sharp gust of icy wind to clear her thoughts. Howl… obviously, he was still hiding something. The ache that this fact caused in her chest gnawed away at her.

Howl… he still hadn't said anything about… them. Their feelings. They'd been dancing around the question, avoiding the customary courtship all women longed for before marriage.

And he'd never said for sure that he _loved_ her. Only that he was capable of love. Only hinted that he would like to marry her. His advances had jumped and skipped steps in a manner almost blatantly fickle, quite like the man himself.

'_Snap out of it, Sophie. You should know by now that he cares even just a little… even if the interest only lasts for a… oh drat. Trust comes first, Sophie.' _

Trust.

A nagging sensation crept into her chest. Did Howl even trust her? If he did, would he still keep so many secrets?

In an effort to stop thinking about something with no present answer, Sophie forcefully tugged herself away from those thoughts by inhaling another blast of chilly air. Instead, Sophie's thoughts wandered over to the events of the previous morning.

* * *

~ . ~ flashback

"_You would think… that such a high and mighty wizard would have enough magic to spare to get me an aero-plane. Or get me a disguise to get into the king's private store," Sophie muttered under her breath as she crept along the hallways of the castle. _

_She was somewhere close to the edge of the main castle turrets now. Just a bit further would be the stables. And right to the left of the king's stables would be the flight equipment storage. "Old, but useable…" Howl had told her when they'd discussed it briefly in the dungeon. _

_Guided only by candlelight, she had maneuvered the hallways to the best of her ability for what felt like hours now. At present, she should have just about arrived…_

_Sophie found herself face to face with a large corridor with a seemingly endless row of large wooden doors. _

_The storage had to be around here. If she was lucky, most of the doors on one side led to the same storage space for flight equipment. And she could roll an abandoned aero-plane out through one of the stable doors next door and launch off in the open back fields. _

_Sophie gingerly stepped up to the left side of the corridor to stand in front of the first door to the left. With a push, she realized it wasn't locked. _

_Suddenly, the overhead lights flickered on in the castle. _

_Sophie panicked. She moved quickly to close the wooden door again and hurriedly to take her hand off of the offending doorway. _

_Before she could move, a large, callused hand shot out of the doorway to grab her by the wrist._

_Sophie nearly let out a cry in shock. She only gasped, though, eyes wide as the rest of the door swung open to reveal a man with darkish copper hair and neat, aristocratic features. _

_The expression on his face was rough, though, and his deep green eyes seemed to grimace at her even as his mouth was set in a complacent half-smile. _

"_Oh? Tonight, I catch a mouse? Are you one of the new maids, girl?" _

_Sophie, paralyzed by fear, could only stare back as the man leaned in closer. "I—I…" Sophie finally managed a curt shake of the head. No. _

_The vague smile disappeared, but the man's eyes crinkled in mirth. "A call girl, then? One of Madame Rochelle's who happened to be free after a quick run that didn't last all night?" _

_Sophie flushed._

"_No, sir… I mean. Well, I was sent…" she stammered, unsure of how to explain and what to admit. _

_Who was this man?_

"_Who sent you, girl? Your name?" the man's eyes narrowed, this time in suspicion. "Madame Rochelle sent you to what? I already have a girl waiting in my bed, so hurry up. Out with it." _

_With another fierce blush, Sophie realized who this was. The natural inclination to give orders, the reputation with women, the slight resemblance to Princess Valeria… this was the king's baby brother, Prince Justin! _

_Although certainly, he was taller and more rugged than Sophie had imagined any royal family member had a right to look. Although his features were clearly classical, the thirty-something year old man had an intense aura that belied an inbred impatience._

_No wonder half the country liked to gossip about him and his inability to rule or marry. _

"_O-oh, I know. The Madame sent me as a special service… b-but only if she gets payment first," Sophie stuttered out. _

_Prince Justin looked unsure for a moment. "But I always pay far in advance. She still has my deposit of twenty gold talents from before, doesn't she?" _

_Sophie stared him in the eyes, willing herself to not blink, trying to appear seductive and defiant and docile and determined at the same time. _

_It was a difficult feat. _

"_Well, your body shape is not especially buxom. But…" Prince Justin leaned closer, and Sophie thought she could smell the alcohol in his breath. "…your eyes and hair are amazing. Ginger… the color is a bit like a lighter shade of my own." _

"_Red gold!" Sophie blurted out angrily, and then quickly pressed her lips together in horror at her outburst. _

_The Prince laughed, an unrestrained chuckle that made his tanned face quite handsome in most women's eyes, Sophie thought. _

"_You want to play, then? My chamber is currently occupied, but Cordelia is dozing, so we could still go next door." _

"_No!" Sophie said. "I m-mean—payment first, remember?… my Prince," Sophie added hastily at the end. _

_He looked at her quizzically. "Aaalright. But the deposit—"_

_Sophie cut him off. "N-no. Different payment this time. Madame Rochelle needs to borrow an aero-plane. She sent me here to tell you to get one." _

_Prince Justin seemed to pause to think for a moment. "Alright, I'll arrange for her to board one in the morning." He put a hand on Sophie's shoulder. "Now—"_

"_Nngh…" Sophie wriggled out of the Prince's grasp. "I meant now. Tonight. I'll be the one taking it to her. Oh! A-and I need one from the storage rooms!"_

'So as not to get caught…'_ Sophie thought to herself. _

_Prince Justin stared at her hard, not saying anything. Sophie near-glared back. She needed to do this. The perspiration seemed to gather on her forehead as her body threatened to wilt under his scrutiny. _

"_Are you really a call girl?" he asked. _

"_Why of course!" Sophie said in her best indignant-older-sister voice. "Why else would I be here?" _

_Prince Justin loosened the hold of his hand on her shoulder and took to twisting a strand of Sophie's hair between his pointer and index finger instead. "Well… certainly, only Madame's call girls know where to find me in my special chambers. Most people would think to look in the Royal Suites." _

"_I guess I'll trust you, then. But what's your name, Ginger girl?" _

"_I'm Sophi—a. Sophia." _

_Prince Justin smiled. "A plain name for one of the Rochelle girls, but I suppose that's why the Madame sent you under these different circumstances. Besides," he drawled. _

"_You've got pluck for what you lack in a voluptuous figure." _

_Sophie seethed a little. "The aero-plane. Prince." _

"_Right this way, Mademoiselle. Conveniently, they're some old ones that are stored right by the stables and right across the hall from me. It's easy to get in and out, because of the large open arches into the lawn grounds. _

"_That's how my girls leave me in the morning unnoticed." Prince Justin winked at Sophie, grinning widely. _

"_Thou art a pervert, dear Prince." Sophie was starting to see even Howl in a different light now. Perhaps all men were like this? If so, she could see why women like her (heartbreaker) sister Lettie and the silversmith's daughter Lissy existed. And under this new guise of Sophia, Sophie felt bolder… more outspoken. _

_Or perhaps that was the mental and physical exhaustion of the day and night before. At this point, she felt close to collapse. Only a little bit more until the prize… not that she knew whether she actually wanted it or not. _

_Prince Justin laughed again, before bowing (in a mocking fashion, Sophie thought) and stating in his stateliest tone, "Your wish is my command, Sophia." _

"_That makes two of us, Prince." Sophie's business-like manner from running the hat shop returned full force. "I assure you: you'll collect your purchase in time. But the interest deposit requires you teach me how to operate the aero-plane, too." _

_Prince Justin's eyes narrowed, as if he suspected something. Then, his expression turned to that of appreciative mirth, and Sophie heard him murmur softly: "A 'Rochelle' girl with wit. Delightful." _

_He raised an eyebrow, and wraggled it suggestively at her. "This all comes with a cost. Your Madame Rochelle knows the laws of reciprocation better than anyone, and everything comes with a deposit." _

_Sophie's thoughts were on the goal at hand already: how to work the ring, how to reach the castle, what she would do once she met this so-called 'Calcifer'. She barely had time to react when Prince Justin pulled her in by the wrist, his unshaven face looming close to her own. _

_Sophie ducked, utterly a frightened squeak at the proximity. But the Prince only veered downwards and pressed a chaste kiss to Sophie's wrist. The scruff of his beard tickled the underside of Sophie's palm, and she felt herself squirm in discomfort at the gesture. _

_Prince Justin straightened and leveled himself with her line of sight. "Let's get down to business, then." _

_~ . ~_

* * *

The night air continued to whip the tassels of the heavy blanket that Sophie had wrapped around herself. She was in the Wastes by now, since the rolling hills had been replaced by dark shadows of mountains and wild terrain.

"I daresay Prince Justin may be even worse for me than Horrible Howl…" Sophie mused. But upon thinking of Howl's disappearing, slithering ways—in contrast to the Prince's lewd, but direct stare—Sophie quickly decided that Howl was still the more dangerous one, after all.

"And at least the Prince only goes after hired girls, while Howl, he…" Sophie petered off. Why was she incriminating the man who she was actually considering 'Happily Ever After' with?

The clank of the engine brought her attention back to the task at hand. In the distance, Sophie could see that the thick mountain fog was parting to reveal hills as she entered a valley just at the other side of Market Chipping. There were hardly any lights dotting the country terrain now, only gloom that retained the character namesake of the Wastes.

The ring on her hand glowed a more intense red, and Sophie felt the band of the ring tighten on her ring finger as if in warning.

Up ahead, Sophie could faintly make out the darkened shapes against the relatively lighter colored night sky. Mostly the Waste's hills… a few scraggly trees, and…

A large sputter broke the monotone hum of the engine again just as Sophie spotted a large moving shape against the crest of an upcoming hill.

The shape was roundish on top. Any more than that, Sophie could barely make out it the dark. It moved with a lazy amble and a few snorts and cantankerous squeaks of protest, as if the shape itself moved with a sort of rude melancholy.

From what Sophie could tell, the red light from Howl's ring was pointing straight toward it.

The engine sputtered again, and this time, the aero-plane fell what felt like a good foot in the air before it rose again, engine protesting more than ever.

In her agitation, Sophie grabbed at the steering wheel, and her loosened hold of the woolen blanket allowed it to be chased away by a gust of wind.

'_Oh bother'_ Sophie thought, feeling the cold starting to seep into her long-sleeved dress.

'_And no one even bothered to teach me how to land this thing.'_

_

* * *

_

"And you'll know what's good for you, Howl. Please refrain from making unnecessary advances towards the Princess."

Suliman's voice echoed across the dark cell, followed by a dry laugh from a bedraggled figure in the corner.

"That is a good one, dearest Madame Suliman. If I'm to be lectured by my former teacher again, then perhaps I've the right to assume you've taken to monitoring me with your interesting little crystal ball again as well? Surely _you_ don't need such a toy to do your work."

Madame Suliman frowned a little at the other figure in the dungeon.

"It's a scrying device that's rather archaic, yes, but not all of those practicing these arts in the past had your natural talent, Howl. Don't forget, with your gift comes responsibility."

"It's as you say," Howl chuckled.

"Which you've neglected in your exchange with Valeria. You've had your fair share of palace maidens in the past to prey on."

"So why didn't you stop me then, dearest teacher?" Howl answered, a little smugly despite being the worse for wear.

Suliman sighed. "That was my shortsightedness, I admit. The way you've turned out is partially my fault. I pulled you in as a rough stone to be polished and let you go before I finished polishing you."

Howl shifted his position, wincing a little as the grime rubbed the sore spot on his knees.

"…Don't be so hard on yourself. I ran away."

Suliman's lips curled upwards in a little smile. "Amusing that you're back again, isn't it? The King finds you one night and wants you as his new palace sorcerer, when just a few years back I was training you for the very post myself."

"It's a small world."

"It certainly is," Suliman mused. "If I'm not mistaken, this isn't the first time. You fled to Market Chipping after you tuned the old Palace defense mechanisms for the King. And then you ran away from Royal Summons again after you made the King new seven-league boots."

"Certainly." Howl's voice was light. "The good money kept me going back."

Suliman raised an impeccably arched eyebrow. "Women, money… what's next, Howl?"

"Drink, I believe."

"No," Suliman's voice was like ice. "I mean your contract with your demon."

The room grew silent.

Even the drip of the ceiling stones seemed to halt.

"You knew…?" Howl rasped, throat dry.

"I knew. And I know you are no longer in possession of your heart. Or perhaps your soul." Suliman's face grew stern. "I thought I taught you better," the Royal Sorceress said in a low voice.

Empty silence again.

And then, a thoughtful hum as Howl peered through the bars at his former teacher.

"That's right," he said. "I don't have a heart. I've given it to a girl."

Suliman's expression didn't flicker. "Nonsense. Don't lie, Howl. As you are now, you're incapable of love, only fickle, passing yearnings without a true heart."

"I would know," Howl murmured.

Suliman's face grew sterner as she looked grimly at the hunched figure of the wizard. The Royal Sorceress had seen many years, many wizards, nobles, and even kings. She was old, and tiring of her posts and all the duties that came with it.

"You should know, Howl… how much it pains me to see my former student like this."

Howl remained silent.

Suliman continued, voice even. "To be honest, Valeria says she wants to marry you. What is most surprising is that the King is in favor of it. Nothing in my power could stop him from putting his foot down on the matter."

This was a lie, of course. But Suliman needed to see… needed to hear how a man with or without a heart would react.

Howl shifted again, but said nothing, face downcast.

"You need only agree to the marriage, Howl. The King has more power than me."

Nothing. The baiting wasn't working.

"Even against my warnings, you would have all your selfish heart wished for, and more, as the Prince of Ingary."

Howl raised his head. His eyes looked haunted, as he searched her face for any sign that she was lying. Suliman knew he found none, because the gaunt look on his face intensified as Howl opened his mouth. Yet no sound came out.

Suliman fed him the last bait.

"You would be free to do whatever you liked. Power, freedom… yours."

To Suliman's surprise, something seemed to click in Howl's head at that moment. The haunted stare turned away from her as Howl closed his eyes, as if in agony and fatigue.

But instead, a low chuckle came from where he sat on the dirty dungeon floor.

Howl raised his head again, and this time, the hollow stare was replaced with a look of deep concentration Suliman had only encountered with the best wizards and witches, statesmen and heroes in the throes of combating attacks to their determination.

The tone of Howl's voice, however, was a mix of relief and desperation the likes of which Suliman had never heard from a heartless man.

"You're wrong. You're wrong…" he chuckled.

"I can't be free like that. I don't want it, I can't have that burden the King is offering. Leave me _alone._"

"Valeria is sole Princess of Ingary." Suliman chased after the last thread of suspicion. She had to be sure… she had to be sure that Howl wasn't upholding a contract. "You could be King of Ingary one day, Howl."

"And what would that give me?"

It wasn't an honest question. It was a rhetorical one.

Howl had just declared he had nothing to gain from such an arrangement. The man was mad… or had finally gained the kind of heart Suliman had always wanted for him, her favorite student.

With these words, Madame Suliman knew it was alright for Valeria to desire Howl. The fickle lad of his castle days in training with her as his teacher was gone, or at least no longer fickle and thirsting for any sort of scrap thrown his way.

Her student… was his heart… so he did really find it?

"Howl."

Suliman's voice rang with authority and new vigor.

"Come with me."

The man on the floor looked up at her, incredulous.

Suliman's face was serious, but the grim set of her mouth from before was noticeably gone.

"I can't give you back your powers yet, but I can give you a chance to earn them back yourself."

* * *

The bumpy crash landing was not the most successful, but Sophie was shocked and scared when the strange concoction of a castle seemed to open up a mouth-like hole in its outer walls and swallow her whole in the night.

Luckily for her, there was an odd assortment of sofas and cushioned chairs to nose-dive into in the interior of the castle… err, that is, if it could be called a castle.

Certainly, the inside of Horrible Howl's rumored 'moving castle' looked nothing like the Kingsbury palace, or even an incredibly fine Kingsburian home at that. It was more like a rougher Market Chipping cottage, and everything was in horrible graying condition with cobwebs hanging merrily on the ceiling and on the banister leading to (perhaps) an upstairs.

The only illumination in the small room was a hearth-like kitchen area, where a crackling fire roared and flickered alternatively in a fashion that any normal person could hardly deem normal.

The ring had stopped glowing, Sophie noticed with a start as she climbed out of the stack of cushions and odd assortment of parchment paper that had fallen on her and the now-broken aero-plane.

"Odd…" She moved to inspect the room.

Gizmos of bright colors winked at her from the table in one corner. A kitchen with various pots and pans looked normal at first glance, but the blackened char on even more blackened silverware could hardly be called commonplace. Vases of different shapes and sizes lined the counter rimming part of the room, and various pieces of furniture lay toppled where her plane had crashed.

Embarrassed at the mess, Sophie gingerly stepped out of the circle of cushions (they were more like ragged pillows, Sophie thought, on closer inspection) that had piled around her and began putting them in some semblance of order. She had to restrain herself to not gasp at the condition of the wall behind her, what with spiders already making their homes in the newfound nooks and crannies.

'_Why… I've a mind to turn into Horrible Howl's cleaning_ _lady,_' Sophie thought, half-amusedly and half-abashedly.

As she stepped closer to the fire, Sophie noticed the cupboard and tiny kitchenette just at the corner. With a pang of hunger, she realized she'd not eaten for nearly a day.

In earnest, she began to open the cupboards one by one, only to find mountains of (unclean) plates and dishware.

"_**Don't bother. That good for nothing barely comes in here to sleep, much less eat anything." **_

Sophie whipped around, swinging the dish mop she'd found in the grime-filled sink with her. The spiders seemed to creep away at her sudden aggressive action, but other than that, the room remained silent save for the crackle of the fire.

"Why're you here, anyway? You didn't bring your aunt with you, did ya? I hate those, though I s'pose I could whizz away temporarily now if one of you tries to cry on me."

The voice was crystal clear now, and it was faintly masculine under the hiss and fizz of what sounded vaguely like the sparklers Honey had set off at her Kingsburian wedding.

"W-where are you? Who are you?" Sophie mustered, wide-eyed.

"Over here, lady. That's right, by the grate. I've seen you before, even if you don't remember me."

Sophie edged closer to the hearth, wary. The fire seemed to pop up and flare at her as she did so. It was all Sophie could do to stand her ground and not gasp in fear and awe as a craggy, fiery face appeared in the flame.

"What—you never seen a fire demon before?" The fire spoke.

"Oh—excuse me. I'm afraid where I come from, these sorts of things are not very common." Sophie stared hard at the fire, curiosity trumping over fear now. "I don't know for sure, but… this is the moving castle? Howl Jenkins sent me here."

"Oh did he? THE Horrible Howl?" the fire demon's voice turned snide. "First he makes me a contract the day I fell, then he makes me slave away in his castle, next thing you know… poof! He wins most his heart back and I'm stuck without a proper contractor!"

Sophie listened, confused. "Fell from where?"

"Oh, you know… the sky, the heavens, celestial crown of the land… I was a shooting star once." The fire seemed to puff up with pride at this. "Name's Calcifer."

"It's very nice to meet you. I've never met a shooting star before," Sophie said sincerely. "Umm… please," Sophie fumbled for words. "Tell me about your contract with Howl. _Most_ of Howl's heart, you say?"

Calcifer leered at her. "Why should I tell you? Other than the fact that Howl's brought you here before, you're no different from any of those other girls."

Sophie wouldn't let herself wilt at this time, not when she was about to find out more about Howl. The tiredness and built up pressure already put her at her limit, and she was running on sheer adrenaline at this point.

"Oh, you must tell me." She looked down at her hands, where she still clutched a sopping wet dishrag. "Or I could put you out."

Calcifer shrunk a little at the threat, but his voice boomed out louder. "If you can CATCH ME, that is! I happen to move very quickly since Howl's lump of a heart doesn't weigh me down anymore."

The fire demon demonstrated by performing little loop-de-loops around the hearth, like a floating spark.

Sophie's mind spun. "But you would have left already if there was nothing tying you down anymore. And—well, I could swamp the whole house with water if I put my mind to it."

After a pause, Sophie added: "I'm very good at cleaning. Heaven knows this place needs it," she said earnestly.

Calcifer glowed brighter as his flames shrank down. Sophie supposed this was a fire demon's way of glowering at someone.

"I'm running out of time. Technically, Howl's same as a normal man now, except with an extra fire demon in tow, subsisting on a measly scrap of his 'heart', or leftover part he still doesn't want. Ever since Howl's heart came back to him, I've been running on this residue energy. But Howl refuses to release me from my duties in keeping this castle moving. And if one of the contractors doesn't recognize the other side's freedom… well, then it's only a matter of time before I rot in this hearth or disappear completely."

Sophie's brow knit as she absorbed the information. "Howl's in trouble. He needs your power, Calcifer… if you give it to him, he can escape. And I'm sure Howl would release you from the hearth if—"

"I've been BETRYAED once enough! And unless that man offers me his heart again, I can't give him the power he desires. Did he think I wouldn't know he's being kept somewhere and stripped of his magic? I can feel his power being kept somewhere foreign, being clenched up!"

Sophie's hair singed as Calcifer flared up again. Over the roar of the flame, she shouted. "If Howl were to give you his heart, that would mean—!"

Calcifer seemed to laugh, in his fiery way. "This time, it might kill him. I don't know if his heart can take that many moves before it gives out."

Sophie's stomach seemed to drop into a bottomless pit somewhere in her stomach.

An image of Howl, kneeling in pain in the dungeon cell came to her mind's eye.

"Just help him…" Sophie whispered.

**Just help Howl**

"Why should I? He saved me once as a star, but as far as I'm concerned, the debt has already been repaid." The fire demon crowed. "Besides, I've no power to spare in this state."

"I would do anything!" Sophie urged. Her vision was starting to darken at the edges. It had just been too long since she'd rested or ate properly. But she needed to…

"Calcifer! Please!"

The fire demon snapped and crackled until it rose to a huge blaze. Sophie had to shield her eyes as sparks flew from where Calcifer near-spit out his next words. "You think I would trust YOUUU? Don't think I don't know, Human! You're the one who let Howl take back his heart! You betcha that's the only reason he brought you here to the castle that day you fainted while sky-walking!_ Betcha that's the ONLY reason Howl likes you in the FIRST place!_ You gave him a dandy present he's been wanting back for YEARS!"

Calcifer continued. "He's a conniving, selfish, cowardly, vain human man who refuses to see his own limits! If you're interested, he stuck the _inferiority complex_ part of his puny human heart in me. And it keeps me bound to him so his magic doesn't decrease from before. A SLIVER of a heart, let me tell you, but he figured he didn't want _it_ and he wanted _my_ powers still."

Sophie trembled as the fire flickered and the shadows on the walls of the unfamiliar castle seemed to dance.

"Why does Howl still need to contact you if he still has your magic? If he had it all along?" she asked breathlessly.

"Never said I agreed to his biased little contract did I? He's stripped of his power right now, so he can't just rip the magic from me. I get a little more freedom from our smaller pact this time… but not. what. I. want."

**What if**

Sophie's voice wobbled a bit as she spoke. One hand swept back ginger locks of hair from her damp forehead as she clutched at her suddenly tight chest with the other. Calcifer's words still rang sharply in her ears.

"Calcifer… you won't be betrayed by Howl again. You won't be betrayed, I promise. Just please… please help this time."

**I—**

"Show me, then." The fire's eyes narrowed at her. "How can I trust you?"

"A contract." Sophie put a hand to where her own heart beat in anticipation. "Don't take anything else from Howl."

…

"_And I don't want the world to see me_

'_Cause I don't think that they'd understand_

_When everything's meant to be broken_

_I just want you to know who I am…"_

_-Iris (encore)_

_-Goo Goo Dolls_

….

* * *

**Suzu: **For those who enjoyed the story so far (even a little?), I cannot thank you enough. Your comments really mean the world to me, and affirm each and every update that there's more to life than workworksociallifework.

So I finished this chapter on a 15-hour plane ride. Why do this? Because I heart you guys to death, of course!

**Okay, this chapter end can get a bit confusing. Well, I guess it's supposed to be, but here's a breakdown: **

**Howl made a contract with Calcifer before, where ALL of his heart went to Calcifer. They were thus bonded same way as the movie/book. Howl gets his heart back in Seven Days because Sophie makes him want it back, and we assume its so compelling that the insecurities which aided him to give his heart away faded and led him to get his heart back. **

**HOWEVER, now we learn that Howl pushed away a last bit of his heart… the part with those icky complex insecurities. That sliver is still in Calcifer.**

** Why is this possible? In the book, [spoiler alert!] the Witch of the Waste's fire demon casts off the witch and her heart because it says they're too old and useless now. So why can't Howl 'cast off' a part of his heart in a similar fashion? **

**It's a very small, blackened part to work with, so Calcifer knows it'll run out one day, especially if Howl boosts his confidence and gets rid of those insecurities as he spends his days with Sophie. **

Calcifer wants a new contractor.

Howl has MOST of his heart.

Howl back at the dungeon is offering ALL of his heart to Calcifer again. Calcifer doesn't accept.

Hmmm… so also, my Prince Justin seems to resemble the book HMC more. I'm referring to Castle in the Air, where the Prince actually has dialogue in more than the last 2 pages, lol. But Calcifer's way of dialogue slightly leans to the movie's.

Night 6 is gonna be gooooood. I didn't really get a kick out of writing Night 5… as much. And 6 is long, actually (yikes).

To those still reading this, reviews are super-duper, extremely, infinitely appreciated, yes?

Critique?

Cookies?

Vegetables?

All appreciated and made into stew.

Ja ne,

Suzu


	8. Night Six: i: Midsummer

**Disclaimer: No ownership of Howl. :( **

**Suzu: Night 6: the culmination of the two previous nights of preparation. Howl's hair changed color, by the way, partly to mask his identity, partly for aesthetics. Just didn't want people to be confused. There should be enough textual clues. **

**Night 6 is also LONG. Which means splitting it up. You have been warned. **

**Plus, this is probably my favorite chapter, in both Seven Days and Nights. **

**Why, you ask?**

**One word: confrontation. **

**Okay, I lied. Two words: public confrontation. **

**So, I sincerely hope you all enjoy it, too. Have fun.**

* * *

**Seven Nights-**

**Night 6**

**-In Which Many Attend the Midsummer's Eve Ball-**

* * *

The news, as proudly announced by the Kingsbury Herald, the Porthaven Wind, the Chipping Post, and numerous other papers in Ingary, was THE news of the year.

The Royal Ball.

It had chiefly been an affair for Princess Valeria's homecoming. But now the dance was talked about everywhere as the ball for her betrothal.

Eventually, the guest list had been expanded beyond just the nobles and royals of Ingary and neighboring countries. Rumor-mongers thrilled at the chance to meet the tomboyish Strangian princess, who had decided to come congratulate Valeria on whoever she picked as the lucky fiancé the very night of the ball. The king of the Orient, the Sultan of Rashpuht, was voyaging to talk about affairs of state with the King of Ingary, and had (so gossip said) brought two snowy elephants for the Princess.

Princes from lands far and wide had come to pledge undying love to Valeria, but also to meet the wealthy or the blue-blooded of other fine female candidates who'd been invited. The young princes came to view Valeria as the top prize, but also came to scour consolation jewels like those of Ingary's noble line. Seeing as Ingary was a wealthy country, this was no small prize.

And as for less than scrupulous princes… well, they came to terrorize the pretty young maidens.

Those were also no small prizes. Although no one could stand up to Prince Justin's scandalous record of women, it was not uncommon for the rulers in the Orient lands to take a third, fourth, or sixty-fifth wife.

It was said the Sultan had two hundred and fifty-seven.

But that, my friends, was old news.

* * *

The preparations for the ball swept frenzy into all of the castle staff. For nearly half a month, the decorations committee added extra maid and butlers to their ranks, extra dusters to take care of every inch of the castle, and a few besides.

They had the castle's largest two ballrooms aired, and a brave soul stepped on an extremely tall ladder procured by stable hands (he had refused Suliman's offer to just levitate him up to the ceiling) in order to attach wreaths of gold tinsel to the vaulted ceilings. The windows were frosted and dusted with a glamorous magic powder that allowed for a magnified projection of certain dancers on the ballroom floor.

The orchestras of the Queen herself were bulked up with extra musicians from neighboring districts in Kingsbury as well as highly selective touring groups from foreign countries. While taxpayers weren't happy, even the common folk who weren't invited couldn't help but catch the ballroom fever, titillating as gossip was about finding a new royal prince and whatnot.

"It's all for Valeria," the Queen had sniffed. "A ball with this particular purpose only comes once in a _lifetime_ for a princess. _You_ know," she had hinted pointedly.

"Don't forget the whole arrangement was _my_ idea. My word, we can't say you were the one who prompted other monarchs to come bearing elephants!" added the King with righteous indignation.

No one could blame the two for bickering endlessly. It seemed that everyone had latched onto something and started complaining up to the evening festivities. All the pressure of organizing such an elaborate affair, had, perhaps, left the main starlet more time to muse about just whom she wanted as her partner.

Not that she hadn't already decided.

* * *

"Valeria is in her dressing room, preparing for the party."

The King was wringing his hands. "But guests are already pouring in."

"We give them a proper welcome. Do not fret, Your Majesty. I've made a simulcrum, a clone of you in physical appearance, to sit on the chair with the Her Majesty the Queen for the moment."

That was the truth. In the first ballroom, the nobles and royals were being entertained by a selective quartet with magically amplified acoustics, all the while sneaking glances at the plump, balding Sultan who had camped by the buffet table and taken three native girls to an arm. The Queen looked faint, but the King-simulcrum smiled and waved obliviously.

"Excellent, excellent! Now. About what you wanted to talk about…"

Madame Suliman smiled. Tonight, she was dressed in her finest raiment. Looking head to toe a Royal Sorceress, she was styled in archaic taffeta that crinkled and whispered as she walked. The high collar of rich velvet was studded with a largish stone that looked to be somewhat magical.

"Bring him in," she told the pageboy.

The boy stepped out of the ornately furnished and carpeted drawing room and retrieved a figure who had been waiting in the corridor.

"Your Majesty," the man said simply, and gave a beautiful, if a bit stiff, bow.

His slim but toned figure was dressed in a sumptuous, deep green suit. The brocade work belied filigree workmanship worthy of a prince, gold thread set off particularly well by the man's gleaming raven hair and golden sash. He was well matched to the lavishly furnished room.

The King coughed, slightly uncomfortably, in acknowledgement. The cough turned into an astonished gurgle sound, however, when the man lifted from his bow to reveal fine, if tired, features and striking blue-green eyes.

"He's a pretty one, alright," the King remarked to Suliman, who was standing close.

The older woman didn't respond. She held out her hand to Howl, and he stepped forward briefly to kiss it in greeting.

"Madame."

"Howl. I trust you find your new quarters and dress appropriate." Suliman inspected her student approvingly.

"Quite improved, yes."

The King grinned at the younger man. "A sense of humor, I see. And wit to add to your face. So… Lad. You're called Howl?"

Howl looked up at the King of Ingary, who smiled back in a good-natured, father-like fashion. Obviously, the King had not figured out that Howl and the Wizard Pendragon (who had fashioned seven-league boots for the soldiers not too long ago) were one and the same. Suliman had chosen wisely to keep this secret, lest it make matters more complicated.

"And Suliman here says you're a former student! No wonder your magic caught my eye, ha! Nothing escapes my notice which could aid our kingdom!" boomed the King heartily.

"Your Majesty, if I may bring up the question at hand," Suliman interjected.

The King looked abashed for a second, before straightening and smiling timidly at both of the other occupants of the drawing room.

"Here is the man you've chosen to further the land of Ingary."

"Why y-yes." The King faltered. "I did promise myself to let Vallie pick out her own husband."

"She has made her point clear, thus far." Suliman noted. The King shuddered a bit at the memory.

Valeria had stormed into the King's states craft meeting with his highest officials in the army. Needless to say, any little thing tended to set off those brave and noble gentlemen. The Princess had then declared she had chosen to marry Wizard Howl, and intended to announce it publicly at the upcoming, after Howl was released immediately, of course.

"Of course," the King added. "I had harbored hopes it would be a prince from a neighboring land… to tie a convenient knot and alliance, you know." He quickly amended after a glance to the impassive Howl. "Not to worry, dear boy. You're quite excellent yourself, given your talents to wizardry and magics. Uhhh…"

This didn't seem to cheer up Howl, who stared calmly at the portrait of the late sire of the King of Ingary that was hanging above the mantle piece.

Suliman nodded briskly as she whisked the conversation along. "Well, I no longer oppose, Your Majesty."

She continued. "I have seen the errors of my ways. Instead, I request one last confirmation to ease an old woman's heart."

The King seemed overjoyed, and quite puffed up with joy and deflated with a large sigh of relief at the same time. "Yes, yes, dear Suliman. Anything!"

Suliman lowered her head at a respectful angle as she spoke.

"I propose a challenge, then. The only way for Wizard Howl to prove that he is not using unscrupulous methods to woo the Princess Valeria is for him to declare a vow of love to a certain young lady and have her reciprocate your feelings."

"Why yes! Of course! I'm sure it will be the most beauteous display, which Valeria will no doubt be overjo—"

"I hope you will be able to elicit a vow of marriage from her, and make the vow of pure love."

Howl had turned immobile as stone. His eyes looked nowhere, glassy as they were.

"You know," Suliman directed to Howl. "That this vow can only be made during intimacy: a deep kiss at midnight is the historical tradition, or consummation as long as it is after marriage vows."

"Consummation!" the King said, and his voice wobbled as if torn between being a father happy or stupefied. "Well, well… certainly, I'll be wanting grandchildren! But, Suliman, perhaps it's a bit soon for Valeria to—"

Madame Suliman ignored the King. "You can't do these things without a heart, Howl. If you try, a tragic end will befall you and your partner. All wizards and witches are familiar with this ancient, if a touch rudimentary, spell."

"To the partner, too! Well, now just a moment—If I may interject—"

Suliman plowed over the King's feeble protests.

"To conclude, if you can get Sophie Hatter to agree to you and kiss you at the stroke of midnight, I'll allow your marriage to the Princess Valeria of Ingary."

There was finality in her tone.

What followed it was a pregnant, heavy silence.

Finally, Howl spoke. "I couldn't…"

"Certainly! Suliman! Think of the logic! The lack of logic! This arrangement does not make sense! Who is this Sophie Hat you speak of?" The King had turned quite red.

"Howl, don't think I do not have my connections. They speak of your time spent in Market Chipping corners, courting a certain, young female Hatter, downtrodden by her peers."

Howl had turned an interesting, ashy color. The look on his face struck hope into Suliman's heart. Perhaps his heart _had_ returned…

Well, if one person would know the truth of whether Howl really had a heart, it would most likely be this Sophie Hatter—the one girl who had come looking for Howl that night at the castle dungeons. The sorceress had scryed her by luck on her crystal.

"You _couldn't_?" Suliman raised an eyebrow. Howl remained mute.

"I'm not asking you to _consummate _with her, Howl. As long as the kiss is done at the stroke of midnight—tonight, if all goes according to plan—then you won't have to have intercourse."

The floor shook slightly as the King of Ingary did an awkward dance of fidgeting his feet. Not that anyone could blame the poor man. His whole frame seemed to shake with emotion.

"_A kiss_! A kiss in front of all the ambassadors and the Sultan and the nobles at midnight! Heavens, Suliman! And with the _WRONG GIRL_!"

"This girl and her answer are the key to unraveling the mystery we have on our hands, Your Majesty," the Royal Sorceress said with finality.

"She's the one who knows, who knew beforehand, about Howl's heart. Should she accept Howl's proposal and kiss him at the appointed time, then that would show that Howl's heart is indeed in the correct place. And then we can safely wed him to Valeria. You _do _want the Princess to be happy, Your Highness?"

"But of course! Vallie's happiness is the most important—! Well! If it is just a kiss…" the King trailed off, deep in thought.

"I assure you. This is a safest method."

"And Valeria will be able to wed our wizard…"

"If Howl does choose her at the end. He will, if indeed he holds a shred of love for the Princess. Or the willingness to learn to love. Which I strongly suggest he cultivates, what with his magic and such still at… the… castle." Suliman trailed off. The last part was spoken while looking at Howl pointedly.

It was a threat. A threat to withhold something essential to any low-caliber wizard. Howl's own skills were in such larger proportion that he no doubt felt like a larger part of his soul had been scooped out.

Still he remained rooted to the spot, waiting as his former teacher stepped forward with her hand outstretched.

Suliman put a hand to Howl's brow. On his forehead appeared a thin circlet made of fine white gold with a single tear-shaped sapphire gleaming in the center.

"There. Now you are a prince in appearance, truly. And for tonight, you are to tell the guests of your excellent lineage from the northern lands, Prince Howell."

Howl didn't thank Suliman, merely touched the circlet, which felt like an extra rib to a cage that threatened to crush and maim him. The weight of the silvery metal pressed on his forehead like a ball and chain.

The King beamed, if his eyes did shift now and then worriedly.

"Best of luck, and… choose Valeria, Son."

* * *

Lissy had shaken off the fifth admirer that night and she headed to the refreshment stand in a huff.

Really!

If this kept up, she was going to have to retreat to the second ballroom with the commoners! Were all blue bloods really this lecherous and uncivilized?

Upon seeing a particularly slack-jawed, mellow-eyed young man stumble towards her from the punch bowl, Lissy made her strategic retreat.

All people from the first ballroom were allowed to roam to the second, where the general public was free to dance and enjoy music as long as they had proper attire and (infinitely harder to achieve) manners. Upon entering the vast room (larger than the more selective ballroom for royals and nobles), Lissy spotted many wealthy merchants and nouveau-riche dressed in rich brocade, silks, and chiffon.

There was a particularly large bunch of giggly young women, who travelled in packs and tried to harass the harrowed guards to the first ballroom into giving them permission to enter.

"Ha! Like that would happen. Wait here, girls. Those pervert Prince Charmings would be just about ready to come to this side of the ball themselves anyhow," the young woman muttered under her breath.

As she moved through the passage between the two ballrooms and came closer to the gaggle of girls, she was surprised when one of them called out her name.

"Lissy! Over here!"

"Mel!"

It was Melanie, or Mel, as the Market Chipping flock called her. Being larger and more buxom than most, Mel's finest assets were pushed up to try to entice the heirs of duchies and whatnot. Lissy almost laughed pityingly as she shook her head. That much for a man she didn't even know! It was almost funny how Lissy herself had catered to that thought mere months ago.

'_Have you really changed at all?'_ her inner voice seemed to pipe up, accusingly.

Mel stumbled over to where the silversmith's daughter stood. As much as Lissy loved and appreciated the other girl's quirks, more and more now, she was finding herself annoyed at Melanie's penchant for gossip.

Not just any gossip.

Gossip about a certain Miss Hatter.

Admittedly, that topic was the most popular (notorious) in town right now. But after a few days, Lissy had gotten quite tired of hearing about Sophie this or Sophie that.

Residual feelings of inferiority, she told herself. Or respect. Or whatever.

"Is Georgina here?" Lissy asked cautiously. She still didn't like that girl. And she was the starting point of all the rumors.

"No, but Beth and Anna-Kate are. Georgina had to work… but I just bet she was trying to help along more rumors at the pub concerning the heinous behavior of _Sophie Hatter_."

Mel spat out the last two words with so much contempt that Lissy wondered how the girl would treat people that had instead actually wronged her.

"Did you know Sophie Hatter might have had a baby already? That's why her stepmother had to get married again—to pretend any future spawn of her daughter's are actually hers within wedlock!"

Lissy smiled sweetly at Mel. "Come now, all this talk of goodie Ms. Hatter is making me bored. Surely you don't believe those rumors."

Mel grinned back charmingly. " It doesn't matter. What matters is that Sophie needs to be put in her place. Why should she get all the male attention as the eldest of three?"

Lissy's mouth set into a frown. "Don't let me hear you talking like that again, Mel. I swear you're becoming worse than those self-righteous housewives on Miller Lane."

Mel's mouth snapped open, then shut, then open again… she was about to speak.

Except a breeze seemed to sweep into the ballroom at that moment, as if the great door at the end of the dance floor had been open to let in the elements.

All the dancers and those milling about turned towards the source of the draft. Not a few appreciative murmurs spread through the ranks.

Both Mel and Lissy's jaws dropped.

The doorway framed a slender figure dressed in an elegant-looking, if a touch old fashioned, ball gown. It was hard to see with the distance, but the girl approached quickly to the center of the dance floor. The crowd of dancers naturally seemed to part like a sea of murmuring foliage. Fans clacked and men's eyes wandered as people scrutinized the newcomer with flaming red-gold hair and glassy starfire eyes.

"Why, I don't believe it!"

There was awe in Lissy's clear, melodious voice. But also a touch of envy.

"Neither do I." Mel agreed. For once, she failed to comment on the appearance of Sophie Hatter.

* * *

Normally, all the attention would have made Sophie jump out of her skin with fright.

Now she stood in the simple, elegant gown Calcifer had transfigured for her, calmly surveying the large hall for a familiar face.

Stranger still was the fact that though the other dancers seemed to shy away from her at first, they soon flocked closer as if to examine a rare breed of animal.

She supposed it was only fair, a practical voice in her head thought. After all, Sophie herself was faintly impressed by their vastly colorful array. Like a swarm of flamingos, orangutans, and parrots. The warm music that spread through the halls was lovely, though. It reverberated through the fiery sort of cold that clung to her skin.

She shivered.

Smiled radiantly at the curious eyes, and one familiar face that stood out like a beacon in the crowd. Lissy!

A young army lieutenant standing a few feet away had to excuse himself due to an untimely nosebleed.

Sophie's laugh, a touch unrecognizable even to herself, joined and melded with the music: a light, faint tinkle along the marble walls.

* * *

Sophie had arrived at the ball. Lissy wasn't quite sure at what she was most surprised.

That Sophie had arrived after all (a small part of Lissy smirked that her childhood enemy was developing backbone).

That Sophie had a (Lissy noted with a mix of appreciation and perhaps, perhaps, a tinge of envy) fashionable dress that gleamed starlight silver.

But mostly, it was the odd quality around the eldest Hatter daughter. Lissy couldn't place the unnerving feeling immediately, but when Sophie's gaze met hers across a throng of young officers, the blonde understood her own feeling of foreboding.

Sophie's eyes were like glass marbles. More like shallow pools that reflected all light. It was impossible to read any emotion on the girl's face without doubting its sincerity.

And the old Sophie Hatter, if anything, had been an open-faced book of honesty.

Mel humphed beside her, and Lissy blinked, as if snapping out of a reverie.

Sophie looked almost normal again. Really… there was nothing off at all, Lissy scolded herself. It was just that that insufferable Hatter girl's ginger hair glowed almost like the color of warm embers under the chandelier and candle illumination. Lissy smirked again, wondering at the complementary silvery-gray gown.

Despite her assets, Sophie seemed to naturally deter herself from the excess of attention. She moved quickly through the crowd to where the other girls stood, more graceful than Lissy remembered.

"Mel! I didn't see you." Sophie greeted lightly. Her face was smiling softly, but distant.

Mel was having a bit of trouble expressing herself just right to the pariah of Market Chipping at the moment. Who could blame her? The sheen of Sophie's eyes seemed to draw everyone in with their glassiness.

"I didn't know your hat shop imported material like that," Lissy said a bit bitingly, indicating the sheen of Sophie's dress.

"It's my old gray dress. You remember it," Sophie said with that extremely calm and distant look. She wasn't smiling in that alarmingly bright way, like when she had first entered the room, so everyone had gone back to dancing and chatting up a storm. Now and then, some eager young men did look in their direction.

"Humph," said Mel. "Don't lie, my dearest Sophie. You wouldn't want to add to your growing list of vices."

Lissy smiled. While she had grown tired of (and perhaps learned better than) picking on Sophie Hatter, she still couldn't resist the game of female coquettishness. It ran in her blood, in her upbringing, in the oldest families of Market Chipping.

Sophie, however, looked not the slightest bit perturbed. She was as distant as ever, but her round eyes widened as if she were trying very hard indeed to pay attention.

"But I'm not," Sophie said patiently. "Anyhow, I have to find someone in the next room. How do I get to it?"

Lissy shrugged. Mel shook her head fiercely. "You're a Market Chipping girl! Not even a proper one! Don't even try it, you…you…"

"Now, Mel. Don't make me throw a bar of soap into your breakfast tomorrow," Lissy's blonde head of curls shook as she tutted her friend's outburst. She turned back to Sophie, curious to see what else this new creature that was Sophie and not Sophie would do.

"I'm certainly not going to offer, but it would be wise to find someone that can prove you're a noble related to the Smiths. Although…" Lissy tapped a dainty finger to her powdered chin. "Even the Smiths are only distantly related to the throne. I don't know if they'll extend the favor since more and more earls and foreign nobles are arriving. I suppose they wouldn't let me back in now either." Lissy ended with a shrug, which belied more impetuous stubbornness than actual disappointment.

A squeak that sounded suspiciously like Mel made the two girls turn. Lissy's hand flew to her mouth in surprise.

Sophie's face lit in recognition, though her expression remained dull and unexcited, not like the rest of the girls in the hall, who had all breathlessly gathered around the stranger that had entered from the other ballroom.

"It's you," Sophie said in mild surprise.

The roguish smile came back full force. Underneath the military regalia, Prince Justin was wearing the royal colors of Ingary and a silky cord of gold braid. He loomed, taller than Sophie remembered, and smiled a little crookedly at Sophie, Mel, and Lissy.

To the two other Market Chipping girls, he said: "Lovelier pieces could not have come from the borders of the wastelands of Ingary. I'll take note to visit Chipping town more often."

Sophie realized that he'd heard their conversation.

And somehow, she didn't feel the shock or shame that should have went along with this revelation. She merely smiled mysteriously when Prince Justin looked her full in the face with raised eyebrows.

Steering her away from Lissy's curious face and Mel's furious one, he led her through the throng to the passage entering the second, royal ballroom. Sophie didn't resist. It was where she needed to go, after all.

"And you, Miss Sophi_-a_, are not what you seem," he remarked, though not maliciously.

"You mistake me, Prince. My name is Sophie."

Prince Justin laughed at that.

Sophie laughed along, feeling uncharacteristically detached and buoyant. Distant and unconcerned by the pressure of the stares nearby. As happy as she was, she felt a pervasive sadness and longing throughout her body. As sad as she was in recalling memories of her neighbors mockery, she felt a sort of pleasure in being oddly unattached.

It was strange, this feeling, and not altogether unpleasant.

The guards let them through the others who pushed and shoved to try and get a peek at the interior of the room. If the other ballroom had been magnificent, it paled in comparison to this official royal dancing hall. Sparkling crystal sculptures stood like sentinels along the walls, gleaming like little pearls on a necklace that was wrung at the other, distant wall.

The ceiling floated up high, and it opened up like the night sky. The Royal Sorceress had transfigured the ceiling into glass, so that the gleaming night stars could be seen high above. Chandeliers and their crystals plus bejeweled candles floated in midair above the dancers, as if they were star-studded clouds. This cast moving, circling swarms of light on the ballroom guests themselves, as they danced in what truly seemed a lit, mystical fantasyland. And the magic… the sheer wonder of it seemed to call to her, pull her in as she suddenly had a greater affinity than ever before.

"You look overwhelmed."

Sophie wrenched her gaze back to meet the Prince's. "But it _is_ beautiful. Truly."

The Prince smiled genuinely at her then, and Sophie noted how handsome he was. "I'm glad to know some Rochelle girls enjoy more than presents of jewels and gold," he joked.

She laughed her tinkly laugh. "Don't tease me. You already guess at the truth."

The Prince smiled, as his eyes grew hooded with seriousness. "Yes. I would say that you are not a Rochelle girl, and I thought as much when I first laid eyes on you. It doesn't matter, but it does bring up so many new, unanswered questions."

His voice was gruff with emotion, and Sophie thought he would swoop down and kiss her like a hawk, if not for the sudden whirlwind of music that swept through the hall.

And oh!

It was like magic.

It _was_ magic.

Every sound produced created little pearls of light that glowed like fireflies and popped in a spark of small fireworks when curious fingers or swishing gowns touched them.

The music came alive, and illuminated the dance floor even further.

Sophie's eyes grew wide. "Incredible…"

Prince Justin rubbed the back of his head. "Yes, well, ol' Suliman did have help this time. A more creative wizard stepped up and planned these light-up musical notes, as well as the floating chandeliers. They're fun pieces of work, but cause a damn fright if a chandelier should suddenly spin out of orbit and crash on my lovely dance partner."

Sophie smiled at his joke. She looked in the direction in which the Prince pointed. "See there?" his deep voice was suddenly close to her ear. "That's the guy. Dancing with Valeria."

Sophie's curiosity was piqued. The dark-haired man looked to be tall and slender, dressed in an elegant deep green suit that matched Princess Valeria's gleaming violet silk gown. A twinge of recognition pinched her insides. And maybe a twinge of something else, but Sophie didn't feel much emotion at all besides a dull nagging and a surge of interest as she mouthed his name.

"What?" Prince Justin asked.

"Nothing," said Sophie. "I know the man, and I know him to be a great wizard," she said carefully, wondering if it would be wise to reveal more.

The nagging inside her body was growing more insistent, and Sophie batted it away and replaced it with the pleasant feeling of hollow peace. She reassured herself as Prince Justin stepped back with a princely flourish (that she didn't know he was capable of!) and proffered his arm.

"Come with me," he intoned smoothly, and his baritone seemed to echo.

Sophie took his arm. He led her over to the raised throne platform at the front of the ballroom, where Sophie had her first look at the King and Queen of Ingary.

They were a matched pair in red and gold, and Sophie supposed that Prince Justin was much younger than the King, indeed.

"Brother, Your Majesty the Queen, may I present the lovely Sophia de Rochelle," introduced the Prince.

The Queen eyed her up and down and nodded with something that looked like… approval? The King, who could hardly keep himself from jumping up and down in excitement, kept repeating: "Well, well!"

"You are lovely, my dear!" the King beamed. "Not as lovely as my dearest Valeria tonight, of course, but very, very close." He winked at her in a fatherly way.

"But…" he added, half worriedly, half jokingly, "No relation to the infamous Madame Rochelle, I suppose?"

Prince Justin smiled gallantly, but mischief twinkled in his eyes at the irony. "In full truth, Brother, there is no relationship."

He winked at Sophie, who smiled lightly back. She enjoyed his jokes and teasing manner very much.

The orchestra struck up a waltz, and the musical notes became rose-colored bubbles, floating in the air. The Queen twittered behind her fabulously embroidered red sleeve. Couples across the ballroom melted together in the lush music.

"I will have this dance." Prince Justin looked at Sophie smolderingly. She pretended not to notice, but he whisked her hand into his own and spun them to face the dance floor.

Already, couples were twirling to and fro in the music. The ornate crystals sparkled even more, and even the stars above seemed to reflect the rosy hue of the bubbles.

Sophie nearly laughed as she looked at the stars. So close, they seemed!

She yearned for them, almost like nothing she'd ever yearned for before. And the empty feeling inside felt incredibly light, left her breathless as the Prince of Ingary spun her in a graceful, timeless dance.

"I feel weightless! As if I'm tied down to nothing, for once in my life!" Sophie remarked, panting slightly as Prince Justin dipped her in time with the music.

He looked at her oddly, before smiling lopsidedly and saying: "Well, I do hope you don't mind if I tie you down to m—"

He didn't get a chance to finish.

The rosy-hued bubbles around them seemed to pop simultaneously as a smooth, familiar voice remarked:

"Well, my condolences, but I don't think she can be tied down to anything… for now."

* * *

Madame Suliman saw the three figures from across the room. She felt Howl's power surge, as if in anger.

He had gotten some of his magic back, just enough to keep the bubbles and decorations working. It was a tiny fraction of his true potential, but it brought back rational, calm thought to the man, so that we was no longer feeling any dizzying pain.

"Control yourself, Howl," Suliman whispered.

"You wouldn't want to ruin the game now, would you?"

* * *

"And you are—?" Prince Justin looked anything but pleased as he looked up and down at the raven-haired man who was standing a foot away.

"Her fiancé. More than you bargained for?" Howl's voice was carefully light. His raven hair stood out in sharp contrast to his fair, unblemished skin. His blue-green eyes were unnaturally bright.

Prince Justin looked dumbfounded for a moment, before recovering and laughing heartily at what he thought was a joke from the king's new favorite court wizard.

"Good sense of humor, too. You are a man of many talents, Wizard Owl." Justin winked at him conspicuously. "Among them, winning the hand of princesses."

Sophie watched, glued to her spot with curiosity as the handsome newcomer's face crumpled at being called a nocturnal bird.

"Thank you, I suppose. Although, for tonight, I am incognito," he informed the Prince. "Please address me as Howell. Howell Pendragon."

Howl pointed at the circlet on his forehead. "Blasted crown. I don't see why Suliman makes me wear one if even you don't have to."

"Ha hah, I know! But the circlet… it, uhh, quite suits you," Prince Justin finished awkwardly.

And he was right; Howl was almost ridiculously pretty, and if his cheekbones and nose were a lot better than many aristocrats, and his mouth and eyelashes better than a lot of women… well, Sophie didn't dwell on it further.

"Valeria is refreshing herself in her room," the raven-haired incognito wizard said curtly, his eyes glued on the Prince. Sophie wondered why he hadn't looked at her yet.

"Prince Justin, I would appreciate it endlessly if I could have one dance with your companion. It would be most fortunate, before I get tied down for life." Howl asked in what most would call a nice, wheedling tone.

It had a marvelous effect on Justin, who nodded. "Valeria makes a man tired, sometimes. It is brave of you, to oblige her request."

To Sophie, the Prince added. "I'll see you later, _petite Rochelle_."

As Justin walked into the crowds to presumably get a nice cove to hide out in away from gossipmongers, Sophie stood stock still, her eyes wide as she waited.

After an excruciating moment of what seemed like absolute stillness and silence, as if they were in the eye of a whirling, twirling storm of human dancers—all extras to their duet—he looked at her.

Howl fixed his shocking green-blue eyes on Sophie, and she felt the brunt of his gaze for the first time that night.

His mouth was grim.

* * *

Howl felt a stinging sensation in his torso—his chest felt as if it were on fire, or as if his heart were dipped in vinegar.

'This must be jealousy!' he realized with a start, as his lips quirked up into a wry grin.

The orchestra had struck up a soaring ballad, no doubt recounting some lovelorn hero or another in the ages of old. The crystal lights swirled almost madly overhead, as light glanced off of women's earbobs and necklaces. The guests were almost drunk on the magic that was in the air, and it worked like an aphrodisiac for some as the hall itself seemed to turn in revolution with all the moving, whirling dancers.

To Sophie—gorgeous, smart, desirable, _unattainable_ tonight, more so than any other girl (if the male admirers were any indication)—Howl said:

"Congratulations. I see you've conquered a Prince's heart." His tone was less than happy.

Sophie was less than amused. "Now, wait here!" her tone was lightly rebuking. "That was certainly not my intention," she explained, unhurriedly.

"I've seen his expression. When the poor chap looks in your direction, it's there."

"Stop being mysterious, _Prince_ Howell," Sophie's rosebud mouth curled, and Howl's throat went dry. "What is there?" she asked.

"You know already," Howl said in all seriousness. Then, a challenging sort of gleam came into his eye.

The next question disarmed Sophie completely, as much as the radiant, blinding smile that went with it.

"Sophie, do you love me?"

* * *

.

* * *

… **End of Part I**

**To Be Continued in Night 6, Part II**

**Kisses to my beta, chibi-no-oneesan. I would bake her cookies, but my baking skills would threaten lives. **


	9. Night Six ii: Teaser

**Suzu: It's been awhile, hasn't it? I've moved house, like, 2 times, and I've gone through several milestones since. **

**If anything, I want the fact that this chapter is up to represent the power of an encouraging, lovely group of readers. This is dedicated to everyone and anyone who enjoys this story. If it's worth continuing, please holler.  
**

**Unfortunately, this is only the teaser of 6.2 (a teaser of 2000 words, what the heck). I wanted to get out of hiatus and motivate myself to start working, and so I wrote this before reaching major Writer's Block again. I'll leave this on for a bit, before taking it down and replacing it with the completed chapter, which will be very, very long, I fear! ****Please bear with me. **

* * *

**Seven Nights-**

**Night 6, Part 2**

**-In Which Many Leave the Midsummer's Eve Ball-**

* * *

_Recap: _

_Suliman lowered her head at a respectful angle as she spoke. _

"_I propose a challenge, then. The only way for Wizard Howl to prove that he is not using unscrupulous methods to woo the Princess Valeria is for him to declare a vow of love to a certain young lady and have her reciprocate your feelings."_

"_Why yes! Of course! I'm sure it will be the most beauteous display, which Valeria will no doubt be overjo—"said the King of Ingary. _

"_I hope you will be able to elicit a vow of marriage from her, and make the vow of pure love." _

_Howl had turned immobile as stone. His gaze looked nowhere, glassy as they were. _

"_You know," Suliman directed to Howl. "That this vow can only be made during intimacy: a deep kiss at midnight is the historical tradition, or consummation as long as it is after marriage vows." _

"_Consummation!" the King said, and his voice wobbled as if torn between being a father happy or stupefied. "Well, well… certainly, I'll be wanting grandchildren! But, Suliman, perhaps it's a bit soon for Valeria to—"_

_Madame Suliman ignored the King. "You can't do these things without a heart, Howl. If you try, a tragic end will befall you and your partner. All wizards and witches are familiar with this ancient, if a touch rudimentary, spell." _

"_To the partner, too! Well, now just a moment—If I may interject—"_

_Suliman plowed over the King's feeble protests. _

"_To conclude, if you can get Sophie Hatter to agree to you and kiss you at the stroke of midnight, I'll allow your marriage to the Princess Valeria of Ingary." _

_There was finality in her tone. _

.

.

.

Sophie… tonight, Sophie was radiant, beautiful, dazzling.

Ethereal.

Her warm dovish eyes had transformed into glassy orbs, which stared at Howl with intelligence and curiosity and, well… not much else.

The simply cut dress bared little skin, but the shimmering material clung to her skin in a way that sent Howl's blood pumping to his ears and elsewhere. Gods, he was in love with this woman.

But no longer. No longer was Sophie a 'woman', in the right sense of the world.

Tonight, he would love a doll.

Tonight, he would seduce a sham.

If anyone could, it would (it would _have to_) be Howl.

Sophie repeated his question, with a finger tapping her chin as if in thought.

"Do I love you?"

"That's right. Answer my question, Sophie."

"Oh, I don't know if I could. We've only known each other for a few months," she quipped back, and her small, sweet (almost shy) smile was disarming. If he wasn't Howl—the (ex-) Heartless Howl—he would have been at a complete loss for words.

"If you liked me even a small bit, you would tell me the answer," Howl pressed lightly, trying not to give away the fluttery mess that had started in his chest.

"Ever the tragic hero." Sophie shook her head. "It would hurt if I were to tell you," She left out the part where Calcifer had fed the ideas into her mind. "You only think of yourself. You _told me so_ yourself."

_Women._ Why were they so blasted good at taking words and throwing them back at an honest-to-goodness "changed man"? He would never understand them. Howl found himself trying to engage all of his rational thought process into finding his next words.

"Tell me," he implored every bit of charm into this plea, though he had a vague sense that it didn't quite measure up to her own (not _fair,_ she had a fire demon on her side).

"I helped you at the hat shop. Some might consider that a debt," he continued. Howl immediately pounded himself mentally for that error. He didn't help her to reap rewards, blast it! He did it because… because—but Sophie's response cut him short.

The young woman's glassy stare seemed to concentrate, and her eyebrows knit together as if in frustration.

"Well, I hardly think I owe you anything. You kept me waiting all that time. If anything, you're the one who owes me answers."

Howl looked at her thoughtfully, his blue-green eyes narrowing, before he wordlessly took her by the hand, his other free arm sweeping in the slender curve of her waist as he pulled her body to his. He was taller than her, but his face seemed impossibly near. Sophie thought he would lean down and kiss her, before Howl gently but firmly guided her into one of the open spaces with many dancing couples.

"Humor me, then."

The sweep of her skirts made the pair glimmer and sparkle in the dancing lights of the ballroom. They were both acutely aware of how much attention their presence attracted. Other dancers slowed their steps a fraction to look at them curiously, wondering about the strange princely figure and how he guided his stunning partner to the very middle of the dancing throng as if they belonged there.

Howl's inky raven hair fell into his eyes as he dipped his head a fraction, to nod at Sophie, as was dance custom during the start of a new waltz. Sophie noticed the tiny dark shadows created on his cheeks by his long lashes. She suddenly felt the urge to touch that spot.

"May I have this dance?" Howl said slowly.

It was not a question.

The firm grip of his hand at her waist told her he would not let go.

Sophie's gaze faltered and she averted her eyes from Howl's face. Part of her wanted to reach out and tuck an errant strand of blue-black hair behind his ear, but another part of her wanted to run away. For some reason, their current position was uncomfortably comfortable.

Yes, she desperately wanted to run, no, to be accurate, _slither_ away, but the strange look in Howl's eyes arrested her.

.

.

.

Calcifer bubbled a bit, in his hearth, burning brightly over the pulsating core at the heart of the fire.

It has been years since the last one. Fire demons didn't gossip after they'd fallen from the sky—after all, a falling star literally was just a _fallen star_, and who cared to hear of the sob stories that ensued? But still, little specks of good ol' tearjerker stories floated up to the heavenly realms, and as a brightly-burning young thing, Calcifer had heard his share of tales of adventure and undying, potent love. There had been a tale of a young man giving away his heart for the sake of his lost love—so pure was his heart that the fire demon lived for ten thousand years on afterward. Or so the story went.

No one really believed those tales. And now, here Calcifer was, holding onto a heart (yes, with its little imperfections) that was, remarkably, _freely_ given. And not for the purpose of selfish lust for power, nor of escape, but of love and self sacrifice.

"Gee, I hope I'm keepin' this one…"

Plenty of time spent in the company of a human wizard had given Calcifer quite a penchant for talking. And, more recently, talking to himself.

And, even if that strange female human wasn't here to hear him—he spoke.

"Don't forget, Sophie Hatter. Our bet. You lose, and I keep this heart."

.

.

.

Sophie knew what her goal was tonight, even if just the thought of it made the iron enter her soul, in a manner of speaking. A rational part of her assured her she was doing well—Howl could not take his eyes off of her. She had Calcifer the firey fairy godmother to thank, she supposed.

In time, however, Howl's smooth movements on the dance floor were peppered with nervous skips as he glanced warily to the side, as if searching for unwelcome onlookers. This wasn't promising, for either her mission or… drat… the nagging feeling in the empty space newly carved (or was it burned?) into her chest.

In her normal state of mind, she would have asked him concernedly what was wrong, except she couldn't focus her willpower enough to do it, without a heart. Sophie smiled distractedly to herself—never could she have raised Martha and Lettie without a heart.

"You're smiling, Sophie? Tell me why."

Howl had gone back to humoring her, lips quirked and eyes alight with the glow of the dance floor. It made Sophie feel a strange euphoric feeling—vanity, maybe—which surfaced from a newly exposed part of her soul.

She shook her head no.

Howl began to frown, then quickly thwarted his initial reflex to look nobly wounded. That trick wouldn't do, especially when he was trying to win her—stolid, practical Sophie—back to his good graces. Sophie in this guise was a much harder nut to crack than he supposed, maybe even tougher than if she were a completely un-hormonal ninety-year old hag. And then an idea seemed to come to him. His features untwisted themselves and seemed to relax as a new, slightly mischievous smile tugged on his lips.

"You didn't have to wait for me, you know."

Sophie looked away. She could still feel embarrassment and shame.

He pressed on. "Nor did you have to rescue me."

The Hatter daughter tried to muster up the lightness, the happy emptiness that she'd felt (felt?) when Calcifer had first eaten her heart. She found only raw discomfort.

So this is what not having a heart was like! Not the sense that there would be no emotion—but that everything was perceived and felt in one-dimension, with emotions flat and pure and… still agonizing, in a different way.

"The reason why you're here tonight…" Howl's hand—she marveled at the writing calluses on the otherwise unmarred smooth skin—grasped hers. "Remember, Sophie. Are you sure you're happier missing that piece of yourself?"

"I—" the protest died on her lips. She tried to tug it back up, but a trumpet blare broke the mood of the entire dance floor as the pair flinched and turned to look at Her Royal Highness's introductory speech.

Hundreds of heads turned toward the grand stair as the figure, who had changed from her earlier dress of the evening to one of crimson red velvet.

"The Princess of Ingary, Valeria Hart Rolland!"

A few in the crowd grimaced at the mention of the Princess (they looked to be disgruntled princes, thought Sophie) while others who were in Ingary for the first time were eager to spot the one in line for the throne, who could, perhaps, make them future king or part of the royal family.

Valeria was every inch a future monarch, if not a bit showy, from the way that she waved enthusiastically at Howl when she spotted him. The princess seemed to not even notice Sophie, which caused the grim feeling to settle further into her stomach.

"You're marrying her, aren't you?" Sophie said.

"Maybe. Maybe not." Howl looked at his companion pointedly. "Depends on whether a certain, charming girl I met in the Chipping area objects to it."


End file.
